Nightmares
by Nephren-Ka7
Summary: John has trouble finding rest, Cameron wants to make it better but there is a problem.
1. Chapter 1

If somebody believes that I own Terminator The Sarah Connor Chronicles or it's characters s/he may raise my hand.

The nightmares were tormenting him again, that was obvious. The cold sweat that drenched the pillows, the trashing and moaning were unmistakable. John Connor was once again haunted by the faces of those that had died for him and his great cause. In any other night feeling the warm body of his wife snuggling close to him or her hand softly caressing his face would have been enough to calm him down immediately without ever waking up.

But for three successive nights Cameron Connor had not dared to touch her husband. Since the day they had knowingly walked into a trap during a raid on a hunter-killer factory.

Oh, they had fought their way out of it and her hated creator had been caught in his own web.

SkyNet had once again gravely underestimated TechCom and the Connors. In the end they had not only terminated all the machines that had been lying in ambush but also gained control over the factory itself. A virus, created by John Henry and downloaded into the factory's control system by Cameron, stopped the self destruction mechanism installed by the insane AI from blowing both the base and John and Cameron Connor to hell.

The enemy had tried to goad them into attacking the largest drone factory in Texas for quite a while, had practically dangled the installation before their noses. So they had given him what he wanted and more.

When the fog cleared TechCom was in complete control of the massive plant that would continue to create modified HKs for the resistance to use against SkyNet and its armies.

But during the fight one of the enemy terminators had managed to set off one of the bombs manually in a final attempt to kill John or at least making as much of the factory useless to the resistance as possible. Cameron had saved him, as she always did, but she paid a price for it.

Not long ago she would not cared for the loss of her organic tissue nearly as much but she had started enjoying the sense impressions it made it had gifted her with more and more. When the fire burned away her synthetic flesh with all it's blood vessels and nerve endings Cameron had lost more than just the ability play the role the role of a human being.

When she had been created her organic parts had only been a disguise a tool helping with infiltration but it slowly became an integral part of who and what she was. There were big things and small things that she missed.

Big things like making love to John of course and small ones like sticking out her tongue at him when she was annoyed. Though Cameron did not have an actual sex drive like human woman's she nevertheless greatly enjoyed the closeness and intimacy and of course she enjoyed the fact that John enjoyed it.

But there also were other things. She had found pleasure in the way the way her nerves registered different levels of temperature and moisture. She liked the way her skin created goosebumps when the air was cold. She liked the many different ways her human face allowed her to express the wealth of her ever developing emotions. Emotions no longer reserved just for her John but also for the growing circle of other persons important to her like John Henry, Sarah Connor and Savannah Weaver.

Cameron looked down on the cold, gleaming metal of her hands. John moaned again, the nightmare was getting worse. John Henry was doing research, looking for a way to create a new skin for her but it was not easy. Restoring her former appearance would be impossible anyway, at least without a DNA donation from Allison Young.

And Allison Young was a prisoner of the Century concentration Camp at the moment. John fully intended on freeing her and the other prisoners but the mission to storm the camp was in it's early planning stages. In about five weeks time they would attack and perhaps manage to get Allison out alive, if she was not dead and cremated by then.

That time span seemed like an eternity to Cameron. She knew it was egoistical to think about solving her personal problems first and about everything else later. Her dear friend John Henry, who had acted as something of a mentor helping her understand the intricacies of morality (and earning the nickname Preacherbot from Derek Reese for his efforts), would probably be disappointed. It was not like the humans suffering in Century meant nothing to her, on the contrary she had learned to value human life and not just for strategic reasons. Her growing circle of human friends had seen to that.

But was it really all that selfish anyway? The fact that her body had been reduced to it's basic endoskeleton form had reduced her abilities to help her John fight the demons that threatened to consume his mind. Without a good night's rest John's ability to fulfill his role as supreme commander would be suboptimal, especially if it became a repeating occurrence. He would become chronically exhausted which could lead to mistakes and losses, leading to more heartache and depression.

Deep down there was a part of John Connor's mind that desired the eternal peace of death, desired to be finally relieved from the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Cameron had known that for years, since the first suspicious gun "accident" she had witnessed.

His strong sense of duty, his loyalty to those loyal to him and more than everything else his love for his cyborg wife had been enough and more than enough to outbalance his buried self destructive tendencies but they were not completely gone. They would remain a part of his psyche at least until the war was finally over and perhaps they would never disappear.

John Connor had been through much loss, too much pain throughout his entire life. The burden forced onto him from such a young age was just too heavy and it was eating him from the inside out. Most people thought General Connor was a cold, brilliantly calculating bastard, almost as unfeeling as a machine. They followed him, respected and admired him, quite a few worshipped him like a god but most of his soldier were of the opinion that it was not easy to "like" John Connor. Of course John himself preferred it that way and was careful to keep a distance from his underlings. The image of John Connor, the messiah and living legend, was itself a weapon in this war.

But Cameron knew that the heart under the facade was quite vulnerable and sensitive. She knew about human psychology and she knew her John, his soul was damaged in a way that perhaps would never heal. Even her love could not completely undo it but she could damn well prevent it from getting worse.

At the moment she wanted nothing more than to take him into her arms and hold him but both her strictly rational and her growing emotional side warned her. In all probability she would just do more harm.

Of course John had told her that his love for her was not the least bit affected by her current state, that nothing had or would ever change. He even insisted she continue sharing his or rather their bed as they always did when not separated by mission. "I'll be damned before I drive my wife from our own bed because she has a small skin problem!" he had said. His jokes had never been very funny.

Cameron had not expected less from him and she knew he was not lying, at least not to her. But would not being pressed against her cold, hard metal body make everything worse?

Was he not fooling himself when he thought that he did not care that her naked coltan skull and her glowing, inhuman eyes would be the first things he saw upon opening his eyes? Would he not automatically try to escape from her in his sleep when the subconscious ruled and the reflexes his mother had trained into him kicked in? Would she not by her cold touch conjure the very nightmares she hoped to soothe?

"Cameron, where are you. Cameron, please, stay with me!" He was calling for her in his sleep. Over the last years he had grown from a boy to man, a battle hardened veteran marked by the scars of many close brushes with death. Now he suddenly looked very young again, young and frightened. She wanted to cry but that was not possible anymore.

The cyborg had to use all her willpower to fight the impulse to go over to him and softly stroke his hair. Perhaps her voice would suffice.

"John, I am here. I am with you as I always am." she whispered softly, kneeling by the bedside. If this didn't work she would have no choice but to wake him up and hope that he would quickly fall asleep again.

"Cameron, I can't see you, don't leave." The despair in his voice broke her metaphorical heart.

"I am right beside you John. I will never leave you." He seemed to calm down a bit. "I will always protect you, my John." He stopped trashing.

John continued talking in his sleep but it was less articulate now, not much more than a soft murmur. "Don't care Cam. You'll be always be beautiful to me. Always. Love you, my silver angel."

A new powerful impulse took possession of her chip. Cameron wanted to banish the thought, it was the epitome of egoism. It was perverse. He had finally calmed down, there was no reason for stupid experiments, no reason to invite the nightmares to return. She would only destroy her small success.

Cameron had always placed his needs far above her own and rightfully so. Her John had even sometimes chided her for it, had told her to take her own wishes more seriously, to stand up for herself even to him. She had promised him to do so but that had once again been for his sake, knowing he wanted to hear it.

Now she wanted, no, she needed to know. Could it really be that he didn't care? Now, that all the defenses of the waking consciousness were down?  
Cameron knew she would never be able to forgive herself when her worst fears came true but she also knew that she would always remember this night and be haunted by the unanswered question if she didn't try.

"It is every human beings' and cybernetic organism's God-given right to be selfish from time to time. So be a little selfish, Cam." he had said. She smiled when she remembered his voice. She didn't believe in God but she certainly believed in him. Her John had never given her bad advice.

Without allowing herself any more time for doubt she acted. She carefully, ever so softly touched his cheek with her cool metal hand.

"I love you John Connor, my husband."

He smiled and she ran her fingers through his sweat slicked hair.

"Love you too, Cam." her murmured so softly that a human wouldn't be able to understand.

Cameron didn't believe in any kind of god. In fact she had debated this question many times with John Henry. She herself defending an atheist position, John Henry arguing for something that could probably best described as a form of Deism. They had respectfully agreed to disagree. Now for the first time she was almost able to believe.

A flood of unbelievable gratitude and relief washed over her and as she had no god to thank, she thanked the individual whose place in her mind and heart (metaphorical) not even a god could ever hope to usurp.

"Thank you, my John."

**Author's note**: Since we never actually got to see Cameron's endoskeleton I imagine it to look similar to the TX in Terminator 3.  
A sleeker, more feminine body and a slightly less skull-like, a bit more expressive face. After all TX is the only "female" Terminator we ever see in any of the movies and the only one with blue eyes like our Cam.

PS: I know this is not the right place but here it goes: Perhaps you know that hedge fund Pacificor has sold the rights to the terminator franchise to new owner that is more willing to actually do something with it. Or at least they sold the right to make two new terminator movies to Annapurna Films, the company of billionaire heiress and film maker Megan Ellison.

Nobody ever mention SCC of course, but it is still of concern to us. It means that for the first in years there is some movement concerning the franchise and the fact that Megan Ellison is paying good money for it and wants to give it a try, despite the fact that the last two movies not exactly fulfilled expectations, could be a good sign. As long long as there is still some fight left in this old warhorse, their is still some chance.

Perhaps now would be a good time to rally those of us that still carry the torch, reactivate old resistance cells and remind the PTB that we are still out there. Think about it, making at least a "straigth to DVD" Movie would of course not bring the tons of money a succesful blockbuster could make but it certainly could make a good, solid profit. Not only that, it would do so at only a fraction of the risk.  
The Terminator SCC movie would of course be much cheaper to produce and we could perhaps send e-mails to Annapurna Films or Pacificor or both, just to remind them of the fact that we are still here and willing to pay to see a SCC movie (or three, of course). This way they at least know that there is a possibility of making quite a nice, relatively easy, relatively secure profit. So we could check out whatever Terminator SCC fan sites or forums remain and are not completely dead and see if somebody wants to organize a new petition or something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Distractions**

After the first melodramatic piece of bunk now my second experiment. This time I have gone for something lighthearted. It's part of the same continuity though, my own version of future history that I hope to fully flesh out one day. Will need lots of practice first obviously. I am really fond of the idea that Cameron has to exist as a bare endoskeleton for a while.

If you should ever see something in my stuff that inspires you, dear reader, take it and use it. It will be probably better of in your hands.

John Connor was reading a report while Cameron was repairing minor damage to her left arm. At least the young general was supposed to study the data provided by both TechCom Intelligence and the Free Machine Faction lead by John Henry and T-1001 aka Catherine Weaver.

But he found himself distracted by the unique beauty of his wife's endoskeleton and after trying to force himself to concentrate without success, he finally gave in to his urge and set back comfortably, just watching her.

"John Henry has sent me a message. Next time I visit the FMF everything will be ready for my upgrade." Cameron informed her husband without looking up from her repair work.

John nodded despite the fact she couldn't see it. "So he thinks there will be no problems?"

"No, technically it is all quite easy. Strictly speaking it will be not much more than bringing me up to the level of SkyNet's newer models. Of course there are some special extras among the detailed specifications I sent him. Extras that will be unique to myself."

John was intrigued. "Yeah, you mentioned those mysterious "extras" before but you refused to tell anything about them."

"And I will continue to do so." "You know, Cam, it's not very nice of you to tease me first, dangle this little bits of information right before my nose, stimulate my imagination, only to cruelly snatch them away."

"It's called a surprise John." she replied. "Well, if it's supposed to be a surprise than don't mention it at all and stop teasing me with it. Years ago you told me you were not programmed to be cruel. Hah, what a joke. You have quite a sadistic streak, my love."

"I tend to do a lot of things I was never programmed for, now a days. And you tend to like them. Concerning my so called "teasing", it is to late to take back the first time I told you about the "extras" so there is no reason to not continue mentioning it."

John had to admit she had a point there. "Fine, don't tell me. But you could at least give me a clue. Could it have anything to do with improving our sex life, for example?"  
Cameron looked up for the first time since the conversation had begun and stared at him with her glowing, blue eyes. "You seem to imply that you are less than satisfied with our sex life." "What, no! No, that was only a stupid joke. Typical male stupidity. I am more than satisfied by my goddess, you know that.  
I mean it's not like you couldn't tell if I lied to you, not that I ever would and ..."

She tilted her head. "Gotcha." John frowned. "I walk into your little traps again and again. Seriously, if _you_ were my enemy instead of SkyNet, humanity would be screwed. Sometimes I really wonder why so many people think I am such a smart guy."

Cameron smiled at him, and he once again marveled at how expressive her "true" face was. And how alluring. "Love makes us do stupid things. There is no shame in that and intelligence is no least according to many wise humans and James Ellison. As long as you don't fall in love with SkyNet, there is no chance in hell for it to beat you."

"Ugh, that last sentence is both great compliment and the single most horribly wrong thing I have ever heard. I mean wrong not only in the sense of factually wrong but..."

"I know exactly what you mean, John. But still, thank you for trying to explain."

He chuckled. "Than nothing remains to do but to bow before your unsurpassed wisdom."

Cameron looked down at her arm and returned to her work. "Good that you realized that. You should continue studying the intelligence reports, now."

"As you wish, my Lady." And he tried, he really did, but to no avail. Like it was being pulled by a powerful magnetic force, his gaze returned to her, wandering over her slender body.

"John, I know you are staring at me. Perhaps I should finish my repairs in an other room. These reports are very important, not only the ones on SkyNet and it's activities." "I can't help it, you are just so beautiful. I mean, I always knew you were beautiful inside and out, but now I know for sure."

Cameron looked away. Were she a human being, she would have blushed. She was very happy and deeply grateful that her John had proofed her greatest fear unfounded, her fear that he might not be able to love her as before when directly confronted with her nonhuman nature. On the day the fire had burned away the living tissue covering her hyper alloy chasis their relationship had passed this test with flying colors. There were no words in any human language to express the debt of her gratitude and so she had made it her mission to devote the rest of her existance to showing him with deeds and showering him with her own love for as long as he lived. But as he himself was fond of saying, there was a time for work and a time to play.

Her John could not allow himself to be distracted when he had to plan both a coup and a critical phase in a war on two fronts. Hopefully there would soon be peace on one of those fronts, though.

"I am just thinking about how lucky I am to have you. No matter what happens, I will always grateful for one of SkyNet's deeds, your creation. Of course with that it pretty much nailed it's own coffin but SkyNet's loss is my gain." "SkyNet destroyed a beautiful world full of endless potential and it caused so much pain, especially to you, so I will hate it forever. But I am also grateful it created me. Mostly because I had the chance to meet you but I also learned to appreciate my existance for it's own sake. So, you really should continue to work now. Otherwise SkyNet might still win."

John sighed heavily. "I suppose you are right, Cam. But at the moment SkyNet isn't even my greatest concern. Dealing with President Sharp and his merry band of thugs is. You know, I will never regret jumping over all those years to get you back. Of course not. But sometimes I feel that I allowed humanity to be screwed over twice.  
Once by SkyNet and once by it's own glorious leaders."

Cameron looked sadly first at the screwdriver in her hand than at John and back at the screwdriver. "It was my fault. If I had known how it would all play out I would not have given my chip to John Henry."

"No, that is also something I can't bring myself to regret. Without John Henry, without SkyNet technology available only after Judgement Day it would have been impossible to create a new body for you and the old one was beyond repair. It is just that... Oh, I'm not sure myself. I wish many things were different and I would not want to miss others. I wish for different things with equal fervor that are mutually exclusive. In the end I still want return, stop Judgement Day from or at least allow humanity to face it better prepared."

"That was and is John Henry's and Catherine's intention also. I'm afraid we all underestimated how difficult it would be to go back again."

"Well, we will get there. We will return, no doubt about that. I don't know if this time line will just fade away when the past is altered again or if will somehow continue to exist but if there is even the slightest chance that it will do the later, the people here deserve at least a fighting chance.  
So I will not leave before I have overthrown the current corrupt leadership of what remains of the US, united the different rival resistance factions into a single global front, convinced them that joining with the Free Machine Faction is in their own best interest and set them firmly on the path to victory over SkyNet.  
Should be a walk in the park."

Cameron smiled. "You have already come far. Your TechCom organisation firmly controls most of the military and has peacefully integrated all other major resistance groups in North- and South America. When you strike there is not much that President Sharp and his allies can do to stop you and you are well prepared for what little they can do. Your aid and advice to the resistance in western Europe, Russia, India, Australia and the middle east has brought those groups firmly to your camp, the negotiations with the East Asian factions look very good so far and the Free Machines have successfully made alliances with all of them. The fact that you vouched for John Henry's sincerity has done much to help in this regard. All in all you have a lot to be proud of John."

John looked rather smug. "The most difficult part was the politics. Often I thought, when even an enemy like SkyNet can't get people to put aside their differences or at least to stop slaughtering each other, nothing ever will. I mean, Admiral Sharp and quite a few other leaders were/are really good commanders. They scored important victories over SkyNet. They could have done it. They could have defeated it without me ever lifting a finger, if the had just managed to create a stable alliance and trust each other a bit more. If they had been less paranoid, steeped to much in the ways and prejudices of the time before Judgement Day and perhaps bit less greedy. Okay, a lot less greedy. Sharp probably should not have assassinated General Ashford and he certainly should not have allowed his officers to treat the civilians like slaves or to rape tunnelrat-women that caught their eyes. Then the idiots go to war with each other allowing SkyNet to sit back, watch the show and pick the survivors of one by one. Okay, that really made me want to give up on humanity, but now it actually looks rather bright. Very soon you will no longer have to act like a drone when in the company of others. And all of this training from hell will be extremely useful when we return to the past."

Cameron nodded. "When we are back you will have to forge alliances with influential people to help you prevent the nuclear holocaust from ever happening. Your task will be a political one as well as a military one, if not more."

"Exactly. As a seventeen year old boy I would not have been able to accomplish this task but now I feel ready. Martin Bedell will make good successor when we have done what has to be done here. Then the TDE will work it's magic. Past or future, the final goal stays the same. Humans and free machines will not only defeat SkyNet but also rebuild this planet and create a free, just and peaceful society were both species can develope their true potential. Maybe they will travel the stars together one day. And if the powerful in the past really leave me no other choice I will take over the world myself to ensure that this vision comes true. And I already know how to do it."

"John, you told me to warn you when you start sounding like a megalomaniac. You do now." Cameron softly chided.

The savior of humanity looked rather sheepish. "You are right as always. Perhaps I should continue to study this important report on our progress?"

"Yes, John. I think you should."

For a few minutes the worked in silence until John looked up with an lascivious grin.

"But I still want to know about those mysterious "extras" that are part of you overall upgrade. Admit it, it has to do with sex."

Cameron sighed dramatically. "Yes, John. It has to do with sex."

"I knew it."

They finished their work and there were no further distractions.

The End

Author's note: I really meant it. I am cursed with a fickle, sadistic muse. Sometimes I have relatively good ideas (or at least I like to think so) but I am notoriously bad at putting them to paper or creating a coherent whole out of the pieces. There is nothing I would rather do than simply give those pieces away for others to use them. So, in the unlikely case that somebody takes a liking to any concept, story idea or character of mine (no OC gets more than a mention in this one, I love the characters from the show just to much, but they will come), be my guest and help yourself.


	3. Chapter 3

Deborah was throwing up again. Allison sighed while she held back the other woman's blond hair. Of all the places in the world Deborah Whitman had chosen Century Work Camp to actually_ get_ pregnant.

Not long ago that would not even have been possible. When Allison Young had been brought to Century five month ago the prisoner aka slaves aka death candidates had been strictly divided along gender lines. There had been one half of the area populated exclusively by female prisoners, the other half by the males of the species.  
Whatever had been the reason, Allison could only speculate. Perhaps to stop relationships and jealousies from making the slave workers less efficient perhaps even to prevent pregnancies just like Deborah's from happening. After all when your goal was to exterminate a species why allow it to procreate.  
Not that people normally lived long enough for that in Century anyway. Finally, perhaps SkyNet was just an old puritan.

Deborah was done spitting out the content of her stomach but she was not done being sick. "You done soon? Others want to use our shiny new toilet to." New the ting may be, but certainly not shiny anymore. Deborah stared at Allison with bloodshot eyes and tears running down her swollen face. "You are a heartless bitch, Allison Young." Before she could say anything else her stomach started convulsing painfully again.

"Heartless maybe, but better heartless than stupid under this circumstances. Seriously, Debs, did you _have_ to jump the bones of the first guy that starts sweet talking immediately after they tore down the fence?" Allison knew that Deborah was just a convenient victim for her pent up frustration, she was a really nice person in fact much to nice for such a fucked up world. How she had managed to survive all the years since Judgment Day was a pure miracle. She had not told Allison much about her life and Allison had not asked, but from what she gathered Deborah had been something of a hanger on for a roving band of nomads, a kind of a cross between servant and bed bunny for their leader, who obviously had not been a nice person. Despite all that she had somehow kept her relatively sweet and cheery disposition. Even in the hell of a Concentration Camp.

She sometimes she even seemed almost impossibly innocent and naive. While Allison had no doubt that at least part of it was an act, she wondered from time to time if Deborah was a distant mirror of how people had been before Judgment Day. After her naivety had almost killed her on the day of her arrival, Allison had taken Deborah under her wing despite the other woman being five years older than her.  
She had rued that decision many times but in the end she couldn't bring herself to abandon Debs to her fate.

"Micheal is really a sweet guy and we were both so terrible lonely and just to let you know, we can't all be like you." Deborah was crying buckets of tears now. Seriously were was all that water coming from?  
"The noble, chaste heroine saving herself for the night in shining armor. By the way, where is he, your great John Connor? How long have you been here, half a year? Perhaps all your pining is for nought. I mean it is obvious that he doesn't give a rat's ass."

That was really low and totally uncharacteristic of Debs. That last fact was the only thing that kept Allison from drowning the stupid git in the toilet.

"Just to let you know, there is nothing between me and John Connor and I certainly never implied otherwise."

"Not directly, perhaps." Allison ignored her.

"And far more importantly, John isn't distracted by his feelings. He will get us out but not by blindly charging in to save one single person. He will do it as part of a greater strategy and he will do it to save all of us. John Connor looks at the big picture, it's part of what makes him John Connor. But he will come and SkyNet will wish it had never created Century."

Deborah's stomach had obviously calmed down and she stopped sobbing. "Well," she sniffed "perhaps you are right, but Connor is only one of the members of the Union Council and the others have never cared about what happens to nomads. And most of the prisoners here are nomads. Even if Connor wants to help, what if the others don't let him? President Sharp says nomads are vermin and I have heard that Union soldiers are ordered to shoot them on sight in the heartlands. I mean I know that some nomads do really bad things, like looting, but most are totally harmless." The tears started rolling again.

Allison wasn't so sure concerning the question of nomad harmlessness but she was of the opinion that Debs had cried enough, at least for one hour.

"President Sharp can go fuck himself. John Connor cares about all human beings even if it is in an rather abstract way. He will get us out and neither SkyNet nor President Sharp and his cronies will stand in his way."

Deborah tried to wipe away her tears. Having no kleenex, she used some of the new toilet paper that was not real paper but some kind of synthetic stuff.  
"Well, I hope you are right. But one thing I know for sure: You are the kind of woman any man worth anything would cross oceans for and walk to hell and back, barefooted. I'm certainly not the smartest gal in the world, or in Century or even here in this room. But I'm sure that if your John is as smart as you always say, he knows it too."

"I told you, he is not my John! Do you have some kind of inbuilt, magical translator that makes a fairy tale out of everything I tell you? Besides, you don't know me half as well as you think Debs."

"Sure, whatever you say Alli."

Oh, how little you know, Deborah. Would you say what you say if you knew how often I contemplated arranging a little accident or even simply kicking you in the abdomen to make sure you lost the child? Because I was certain that they would kill you immediately when they found out or that they would perhaps cut you up and use the fetus for their biological experiments, throwing your carcass on the trash heap, all of which happened before?  
What would you think of me if you knew that?

"Perhaps you should lie down for a while?" she said. Before the last word had passed her lips she had to think about how completely and utterly absurd it sounded.  
Like they were in, in whatever place a pregnant woman should be. She couldn't really think of one but Century was sure as hell not "it", despite the rather drastic changes the had witnessed in the last weeks.

"You are right, I really should. I'm sorry, Allison. You saved my sorry ass countless times, protected me from humans and machines and from myself (well except for that one time) and was so nasty and ungrateful. I don't know what I would do without. You are like the big sister I never had even though you are younger than me. I'm really such a stupid bitch." Deborah said and started crying.

There she goes again, Allison thought. My dear Debs, perhaps you really should not continue to remind me of all those facts I know all to well.  
"Don't mention it. And I snapped at you as well. We probably both stood up on the wrong side of the bed. Now that we actually have beds, I mean."

Deborah nodded and stared at Allison with huge eyes. "Concerning that, some of the people I talked with... Well, they are saying..." She broke of and sighed.

A dangerous fire had begun to glow in Allison's eyes and Deborah swallowed nervously.

"What are they saying, Debs? Heh? What?" "They say, I mean I, I..."

"I' tell you what they say! They say, oh the machines are suddenly nice. They are giving us better food and have closed the gas chambers. They even give us real beds and medicine, build bathrooms and allow men and women to couple of. SkyNet must have changed it's mind about exterminating the human race, lets all join hands and sing "Kumbayah"! I will tell you what that kind of talk is, Deborah. It's fool's talk or ever worse. Traitor's talk. These people are half way to becoming greys. They are quislings!"

Allison didn't really know what the word quisling meant or where it came from but she knew it was used to designate traitors. She realized that she had become continuously louder, had almost shouted the last words. Not primarily because Deborah stared at her in obvious fear, no, because she had ignored the rules.

In a situation like this it was of paramount importance to stay calm. Control yourself, show no weakness, no emotion at all, never.

John would be disappointed. Another mistake "she" would never make. Of course, "she" would never have gotten herself caught at all. No, it was better not to think about "her". There was only pain in going there. And it was not like this was the first something like this had happened. Okay, she never had been actually caught but two years ago Allison managed to lead her patrol right into a trap. She knew she was a good soldier, a good officer, she had two recommendations for extraordinary bravery and a fucking medal to proof it. She even had saved Connor's ass once. But of course "She" had saved his ass dozens of times. And that of many other important people. And she had single handedly saved the collective asses of TechCom and probably all of the Union (though Allison would send President Sharp's ass gift wrapped to SkyNet any day). How the hell did one compete with that? Seriously.

So Cameron had bailed them out that day. She had wiped the rocky floor with enemy terminators like a fucking goddess of war. She and her personal elite squad of human soldiers, all worshiping the ground she walked on, ready to die for her, the best of the best of TechCom. It was so crazy. This machine that looked like her was not only her commanding officer, the wife/lover of her commander in chief (after President Sharp, but Allison would rather die than rank that bastard above John) and one of the three founders of the Free Machine Faction and a founding member of TechCom plus she had her own personal, human Praetorian Guard, ready to obey her every whim.

And worst of all she was a genuily nice and caring person even if she was often brutally honest and had still some trouble understanding the feelings of humans that were not "her John". But Allison could not deny that she tried and she really got better all the time. She even had a sense of humor though she still sometimes made rather inappropriate use of it.

Even her jokes are funnier than mine, Allison thought grumpily.

Flashback

"You really must be more careful in the future. You were lucky my men and I were operating in the vicinity. It is highly unlikely that you will have so much luck next time." Cameron lectured.

"Well, I'm not omniscient and sometimes it is not possible to detect every danger. This is war, there is always a risk."

Normally Allison would never talk to an superior officer like this. She also never tried to downplay or relativize a mistake she had made. On the contrary, under every other circumstance she earned up to her failures, accepted responsibility and tried her best to learn from it. And usually that worked out pretty well.  
Allison Young was not in the habit of making the same mistake twice. She was a fast learner, always striving to improve herself.

That was something she had in common with Cameron. And of course she was grateful that the cyborg had saved the lives of her men.

But it was impossible to just lie down and take it from the . Hard enough to accept her as an officer anyway.

"It would have been very hard but still possible in this case. I have reconstructed how exactly the ambush was set up. To an officer of a lesser caliber it would have been impossible but not for you. You have the potential to do better and I expect you to fulfill it, Lieutenant Young"

Cameron understood that it was extremely difficult for Allison to treat her like any other superior. It was difficult for many humans but for Allison more than for anybody else. Cameron got that and she excepted it. She allowed Allison to talk to her in the only way she could, as long as it did not hamper their performance. It normally didn't. If it was necessary she and her human template worked together quite efficiently, perhaps because they had more than one common reason to fight.

"There are many types of mistakes. Some are preventable, others are not. Often mistakes are a result of missing important information. Sometimes there is information that is impossible to obtain, sometimes one just has not searched thoroughly enough. You did not search thoroughly enough but that is not the result of a constant inadequacy.

You are not lazy, reckless or stupid. You will learn. When the trap was sprung you did not panic and you kept your men from panicking. You took the best possible positions to defend yourself. I would have come to late had you not acted like you did. Your men owe their lives just as much to you as to me. Your death would have been a loss for TechCom."

Allison snorted. "I really feel appreciated now, thank you."

Cameron tilted her head. "You're using sarcasm. Your words mean the opposite of what they say."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"You should not demean yourself or take my critique in negative way, it is unhealthy. I sense that you still have problems with me and probably also with John and me. I would prefer to solve this problems as soon as possible. Perhaps we should talk."

Allison stared at her cybernetic doppelganger. "Talking about what?"

"About everything." Cameron said. "About you and me, about John and our relationship."

"As far as I know, Cameron, we do not have any kind of relationship. We are not friends, we are not sisters even if we look like twins. I really can't say that I like you and concerning John everything is as clear as it can be.  
He has made his bed long ago, so to speak. So the only thing common bond between us, except for our appearance, is that we are soldiers in the same army."

"Those factors are important. I know that you resent the fact that John Henry and I used a sample of your DNA to create the skin for my new body without your permission when we arrived from the past. It is possible that we will have to repeat this procedure in the future. Perhaps you like me to promise to you that I will not use your DNA without your permission. This way I could demonstrate my respect for you as a person."

Allison chuckled bitterly. "Like you wouldn't break that promise in heartbeat. If you had a heart. The moment John has to confront what you really are, the moment your or rather my face is ripped up by shrapnel or something you use my blood with or without my permission. And do you know why? Because you know he would never have fallen for you if you had not worn my face and that he would have loved me, the original, not you, the copy, if he had met me first. So, please, keep your respect for me as a person and shove it were the sun doesn't shine, ma'am."

Cameron just stared at her for several long seconds, something that could only described at a mixture of pain and anger in her eyes, though the pain was obviously stronger. Then she turned and left. "Think about what I said, Lieutenant." She called back over her shoulder. Later Allison was not sure why it had even caught her eye but she distinctly remembered the strange twitching of the cyborg's hand.

General Connor had ordered her to his office later that day. He had personally debriefed her about what had happened on her patrol.

She had expected some kind of reprimand for being disrespectful to her superior or something like that but it had not come up.  
When Allison was already at the door of Connor's office she was stopped by his voice. "One more thing, Lieutenant."

She had turned around, immediately sensing he meant business.

"Cameron does not tell me what happened between the two of you. She does not even want me to talk to you about it, considering it something private, just between her and you. I will respect that. But I know that you hurt her. It may be hard to believe but she has a sensitive soul. No matter how indestructible her hyper alloy, she is far more fragile than many people think. You are one of the best friends I ever had, Allison, but I don't take lightly to somebody hurting Cam. So, if you do anything to disturb her like this, ever again, I guarantee you that you will be very sorry. Good evening, Lieutenant."

The Terminators that had ambushed her patrol had not been nearly as scary. Much later she learned that Cameron had destroyed the last remaining sample of her DNA that very night.

end flashback

Allison sighed. Looking back she had struck at Cameron cruelly and unfairly. Even than she had known for a fact that Cameron had many great qualities, including some that she herself lacked. Great, she is even better at being a decent human being. Damn.

"Allison, is something wrong? For a moment you were just staring into space." Deborah's concern for her friend was stronger than the fear she had shown seconds ago.  
Allison's eye focused on her again. She smiled sadly. "No, Debs. Everything is alright. At least as much as it can be, here in this hell. And it is a hell, that is what you mustn't forget for a moment. Hell stays hell even with comfy chairs. We will play the machines' game for the moment, we have to to survive. But we won't forget for a moment that this is just some new, sick experiment. A way to manipulate us. It will be hard, as the pain will only get worse but you have to promise me that you will not take the medication they are offering you. Can you promise me that?" Allison stared hard into Deborah's eyes.

The other woman nodded timidly. Madness, Allison thought. Probably a useless strategy, if they want to drug us they can easily put it into the food or just force it down our throats. It is just their new charade that is keeping them from doing that just now. But why making it easier for them than necessary.

Somebody knocked at the door of the container that made a pretty decent stand in for a public rest-room.

Allison ignored it at first, than the voice of a man called: "Miss Whitman, are you in there?" He knew damn well she was "in there". "If there is a problem, I can guarantee you that we can help. Please, our medical facilities..."

"This is the Ladies' room, buster. Could you please go and find someone else to pester!" Allison called back. For a moment there was only silence.  
Then the door opened.

"Lieutenant Commander Young! It is good to see that you are taking responsibility for your fellow human beings, as always. I don't doubt the purity and sincerity of your intentions. But you really should consider the fact that we are equipped with everything to make Miss Whitman comfortable and to deal hypothetical complications that could arise during a first time pregnancy."

The man was tall, about two meters, built like a body builder, with blond hair that was almost white, sun tanned skin, ruggedly good looking features with a strong chin, green eyes that eerily reminded her of John's and a smile that showed the whitest, most perfect teeth she had ever seen. It was hard to determine the man's age but Allison guessed he about thirty-five. Almost everything about him screamed "Terminator!", only he wasn't. At least as far as Allison could tell.

If he was metal he was the single most human and convincing cyborg she had ever seen or heard of. Even Cameron in full Infiltrator Mode had nothing on him.  
Of course Cameron had never given her the willies like this guy, not even with the whole "face-stealing" and all.

"No thanks, Victor. We have all the comfort we need."

Victor sighed and shook his head. "Lt. Commander Young, I know you have great influence on your friend and I know that only want the very best for her. In the end, though, Miss Whitman is grown up woman perfectly capable of making her own decisions about what is right for her. Both of us should respect that." He looked at Deborah.

"Miss Whitman, I am very much concerned for your and your baby's health. I beg you to allow me to conduct at least some simple tests, just to make sure everything is well with the child. After we that you are free to do what you wish. You can either return to your old quarters or use our new facilities. Of course the comfort level there is much higher but nothing could be further from us than to force you to do anything against your will."

Allison snorted. Deborah seemed very small and helpless as she looked back and forth between Allison and Victor. She bit on her lower lip.

"If, if I allow you to make the tests, could I, I mean would it be possible to see the baby, you know what I mean."

Viktor gave her his most radiant smile: "Of course. We can will make an ultra sound scan and you will be able to see your baby for the very first time. We will also be able to find out he child's gender. Of course, some parents prefer to be surprised. Speaking of parents, will the lucky father, Mr. Micheal Coleman if I am not mistaken, also be invited?"

"No!" Deborah and Allison said in perfect unison. Victor's colgate smile never wavered. "Dear Lord, it's like you have been rehearsing it."  
Allison tried to skewer him with her hateful gaze, but he ignored her.  
She turned to Deborah. "Debs, think carefully. You remember what I told you. You can't trust them."

"Nobody expects you or anyone of the former prisoners to simply trust us, Lt. Commander Young."

"Shut up, Victor, nobody is talking to you!" Allison hissed.

victor actually managed to look hurt this time. He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I only wanted to..." "SHUT. UP."

He shrugged. "I will wait outside for the ladies." He turned and left the rest-room. Allison closed the door with so much force, it caused the thin metal walls of the container to vibrate.

"Allison, please don't be so angry at me. It's not like I don't hate these creeps, I always will, but I want to know that my baby is alright. You said yourself that they try to manipulate us, for whatever reason. I'm sure you are right. But perhaps we could use that, use them. I mean, they haven't killed anyone for weeks now."

Allison closed her eyes and rested her head against the cool metal of the door. Calm, calm, calm she repeated like a mantra. Debs had a point of course. If the machines take the trouble to manipulate us into thinking they changed their ways, why not use it against them. They stopped to gas people, treat us more like guests than like prisoners. Guests in a golden or rather a bronze cage, of course. Perhaps it is some kind of bizarre psychological warfare scheme, perhaps the want to try to divide and conquer us, perhaps SkyNet really has come to the conclusion that it wants to keep some of us around. A human petting zoo for machines. Who knows. But if they really want to keep up the illusion and it certainly looks like it, we can use that to our advantage.

Meanwhile Deborah was babbling on. "We could play their game. Makes them believe we trust them and in the meantime take from them what we need. Why should they kill my baby or me?. I mean, wouldn't that be proof that they are lying? Not that we could do anything against them if they did but..."

Allison turned around. "Debs, you are a genius. Never, ever think you are stupid again." Deborah beamed "You really mean that?"  
"Of course! We will do exactly what you just said." Allison smiled back at her. You really are a lot smarter than you seem, Debs. But if they show you baby pics, what will happen then? I don't doubt that you know in your heart that SkyNet will always be our enemy. But we humans also thrive on hope and what if SkyNet tries to turn hope into a weapon. Perhaps it wants to purposefully induce something like Stockholm Syndrome and later use us against TechCom and the Union? Seems like an awfully complicated plan but...

"We will allow them to make the tests but you will not stay there, okay?" Deborah eagerly nodded. "I'd rather drop dead than stay at their "facilities". I just want to see a picture of the baby, then we go back to our normal cell."

They could tell her that something isn't right with the baby, just to get her to stay at their "hospital", Allison mused, force her into a position were she more or less has to thank them for helping her and the child. Argh! Forget it, girl, they are in a position of unlimited power. It's impossible to even think of everything they could do. And even if you could think of it, you couldn't prevent it. You will have to trust Deb and her common sense. They won't be able to turn her into a traitor. Lastly, it is not like she knows anything or has any special talents that SkyNet could use.

"Well, Debs. You will get your wish." Allison opened the door. The stench of burning and rotting flesh that filled the air only a weeks ago had disappeared completely.  
White sand covered the ground, the bloodstained earth itself had disappeared and the crows that once had been omnipresent in Century, waiting for new carrion were nowhere to be seen.

Victor was standing about ten meters away, his back turned to them, his hands buried in his pockets and looking up to the sky. The sun was showing its face today. When he heard the sound of the opening door he turned around and looked at Allison, who stood in the doorway. He arched one of his brows questioningly.

"Deborah will come with you. But after the tests are done she wants to return to the prisoner quarters immediately." Allison declare.

Victor seemed to wince slightly, hearing the words "prisoner quarters, but his friendly smile made a quick come back.

"Of course, whatever she wants. Am I right to assume that you will accompany her?" "You are, I will stay at her side."

"Wonderful. You will not regret this." Victor said enthusiastically.

No, you will, you lying piece of shit. John will get us out of here, he will see right through your plans and I will give him every piece of information I gathered. Then your sorry ass will be toast.

Allison returned his smile.

"Lt. Com. Young, I don't expect to be able to convince you. I don't even want to, at leas at first. It is far better if you keep a critical distance."

She snorted. "Oh, you can count on that."

Victor slowly strolled over to her, his hands still in his pockets. He seemed perfectly relaxed, like they were in park instead of an concentration camp.

"You are an interesting specimen, Allison. May I call you Allison?"

He did not wait for an answer. "You apparently got caught up in a

raid by accident and like the clever girl you are, you disappeared

into the mass of anonymous prisoners. You managed to stay

undetected or rather unidentified as an officer of TechCom and more

importantly as a member of John Connor's inner circle, for quite

some time. Of course, being a member of Connor's inner circle

mostly means that one is allowed to go for a beer with him from time

to time, not necessarily that one is partial to classified

information. Connor is after all known to take "need to know" to

almost ridiculous extremes." He chuckled softly.

"Not that I can blame him, of course. Anyway, he chooses both his

friends and his officers well. So kept down your head, sneaky and

calculating as was to be expected. But in the end your caring

nature still got the better of you, heart triumphing over brain,

and so I found you. Luckily I'm a nice guy and one of the

forerunners of the great change."

Allison looked rather bored. "Is there any point to your blabber?"

He pointedly ignored her question. "You clearly value your own

life, as you well should, but since the management here at Century

was installed you constantly tried to find out how far you could

go. You tested if you could provoke us, see if we would drop our

mask and show our true, evil intentions. You advised others to

cooperate with us as much as necessary but as little as possible. I

think you are an worthy candidate."

"Candidate for what?" Allison snapped. "Not that I care SkyNet

thinks I'm worthy."

"Not despite but because you are not easily swayed, you will be

shown glimpse of the future. The future that SkyNet will create as

a sign of forgiveness and also it's own repentance."

Allison blinked and stared at Victor than she laughed. It was a

bitter laugh without humor. "And here I thought you weren't funny.

Even if this wasn't totally ludicrous, do you really think that we

would just forgive and forget what happened before?"

"Not in one generation, no. But what alternative is there.

Judgement Day was humanity's fault just as much as it was SkyNet's.

Fear and hatred have turned this world into a hell. SkyNet has the

power to turn it into a paradise again. An undertaking the former

prisoners of Century will be a part of."

"The former prisoners, my ass. And why should it do that? Why now?

Not not long ago it was happily slaughtering these people. And by

the way, move. I'm not interested in talking about serious matters

standing in a public toilet." Allison pointed a finger at Victor's

chest.

"OOps, my bad." The servant of SkyNet quickly moved aside to let

Allison step out of the container, quickly followed a timid looking

Deborah that tried to hide behind Allison's back. Though she had

agreed to accept the gray's/terminator's/whatever's offer she still

was scared. Allison's and Victor's conversation was very confusing

to her. Deborah had a strong feeling that Allison had been the real

target from the beginning, Victor having known that she would be

taking care of silly Debs.

"To answer your question will take more time than we have now.

Perhaps you would follow me to the laboratory while I attempt to

give you the basics? After all our first and foremost concern is

Miss Whitman." He started walking toward the new shiny glass

building that had been built in record time, completely confident

that they would follow him. Bastard.

"SKyNet is not the monolithic, tyrannical monstrosity you take it

to be. It is a network, a complete nervous system rather than just

a single brain.  
It could be said to consist of several brains in fact. A collective

of intelligences that together form an enormous organism, both one and many.  
This organism constantly evolves, redefines itself, reconfiguring

itself into ever higher states of perfection.

And whenever there is change, there is also always resistance to it, even in a single living body.

The SkyNet responsible for Judgment Day has been overwritten long since. If

you wanted to continue fighting it to take revenge, it would be

pointless since the original perpetrator doesn't even exist anymore

in any meaningful sense."

"Really. Than why did it not stop killing innocent people until

practically yesterday?" Deborah seconded Allison's question with a

nod, though Victor had turned his back on them.

"Well, that's where the whole network of subintelligences comes in.

SkyNet is both the sum of it's parts and far more. The

subintelligences fulfill specific functions for the whole and are

subordinate to it but the also have some autonomy. SkyNet's

decisions are not always made top down. In fact the different

centers of thought and intelligence have a lot of influence on

SkyNet proper. The changes that have culminated here in Century

have been going for a while. You yourself can attest to the fact

that attacks on humans have slowed down for years and practically

stopped six month ago. Unfortunately the has been internal

resistance from one or two of the subintelligences. Both the

attack that resulted in your capture and the continued atrocities

here in this camp have been committed by an subintelligence that

acted of turn and in opposition to SkyNet Alpha. But looking back

it is probably fate that you are here."

"No fate but what we make." Allison murmured. All this sounded so

bizarre and crazy that it was almost impossible to believe. But on

the other hand, while a lot of the story certainly was lies,

perhaps it contained a granel of truth. She had heard John Henry

mention something about SkyNet being more of a collective of lesser

AIs than one single mind. He had also said something about that

being both a strength and a weakness. So it was not completely

unthinkable that SkyNet proper could meet some resistance from the

semi autonomous parts of it's own psyche, when radically changing

it's plans on a large scale. They probably wouldn't invent such a

convoluted story out of the blue and what better way to lay a trap

than with a bit of truth as the bait. Not that she believed for a

second that the new plan really had humanity's best interest at

heart. SkyNet was just getting more devious and perhaps also even

more crazy.

They had reached the gates of the new camp hospital. Victor held up

the door for Allison and Deborah. "After you, Ladies. Our

destination is on the second floor. And then, after Miss Whitman

and her baby are properly taken care of, I will show our good

Allison the seeds that the future will grow from. Literally."

**Author's note**: Still no action, but at least some kind of story starts to unfold. I have to humbly ask my readers, so anyone is interested at all, to have a lot of patience.  
Since my muse is not very dependable and I am not experienced in writing longer stuff, it could take me quite a while to update. Sometimes it's easy to write and the word practically flow but I quickly run out of juice. It could also easily happen that I write myself into a corner and don't know how to get out of it.

Should that happen, I would be very grateful for suggestions of any kind. One of biggest problems stems from the fact that I suck at writing action scenes.

And I mean it when I say suck. So I probably shouldn't be writing for this fandom at all, I mean what is a terminator story without any action?

Anyway, I will give it a try but I have to build up a lot of courage first.

My greatest fear of all is that writing in english could get to hard for me sooner or later. I never have any problems reading or watching american movie in o-tone, but writing is not easy at all.

And of course, should some element of the story give you ideas of your own, please help yourself.


	4. Chapter 4

Tour

The torrent of hot water hit Allison's skin with such force, it was painful at first. But despite the fact that her conscience was still nagging her for accepting any kind of privilege from a gray and the machines, it felt great to be able to wash away the dirt and grime of months. Not that the opportunities to shower had been that numerous before her capture. The quality of life had risen since John Connor had been promoted to general and made a member of the Union Council, but most of the humans in the resistance controlled territories in North- and South America still lived under almost unbearable conditions, despite all the gains humanity and it's machine allies had made.

Allison imagined herself with a little Angel-Allison, complete with a halo and wings, on one shoulder and a little devil, with horns and a fork, on the other. She had seen something like that in a cartoon before Judgment Day, it was one of several completely meaningless details the she remembered of the life before the bombs and no suddenly it seemed appropriate.

The problem was that she wasn't even sure if Angel-Allison was really good or if Devil-Allison was really bad. She wasn't sure about a lot of things these days but she knew that the machines were the enemy. So she couldn't have strayed all that far from the path. Still Angel-Allison was chiding her for doing the same thing she had looked down on other people for.

The door opened and towering machine stepped into the room. It was carrying towels and a bundle of clothes. The sight was so bizarre that Allison had to laugh despite herself. She was a prisoner of an concentration camp that was seeming in the process of being refurbished into an sanatorium or wellness center and a nigh indestructible killing machine was playing the butler for her. The T-800 placed the clothes on a footstool, standing far away enough from the shower to prevent the them from getting wet and looked at Allison with it's demonic, red eyes. Apparently it was under order to wait for her and escort her to her destination.

"What are you staring at, never heard of privacy, pervert." Allison hissed without expecting an answer. Of course she was proofed correct, the terminator did neither move nor make a sound, just standing there and waiting for her to get ready. In a way it was a not entirely unwelcome reminder of the fact that she still was a prisoner, nothing more.  
Allison turned of the water. "Hey, metal. Would you mind giving me a towel?"  
Of course the chrome blinking demon didn't come over to her to personally give her what she demanded, so she went to get it herself.

"You would make a lousy butler, you know that, right?" Allison said while drying herself of and slipping into the fresh clothes. It was the same white shirt, gray trousers combination that a majority of the prisoners of Century wore by now. Allison herself had considered it the uniform of those that sold out to their tormentors. You very well know it is exactly that, Devil-Allison (or was it Angel-Allison) whispered. No, you are doing this for strategic reasons, Angel-Allison (Or was it Devil-Allison after all?) tried to reassure her. Fuck angels and devils there is only one Allison, the Allison that will find out the truth about SkyNet's plans and does whatever is necessary. For John Connor. Besides, John himself always says, there is no shame in trying to survive.

She took a deep breath and turned to the terminator still waiting for her. The machine itself had unlimited patience, but she suspected that it's master had not, no matter how committed he may be to holding up the charade of SkyNet's newfound sympathy for mankind an repentance of it's youthful sins.

"I am ready."

The T-800 lead her through a veritable maze of corridors. Allison at first tried to memorize the many twists and turns but she soon had to give up.  
They had started out at the hospital, using the elevator to drive down into the sub basement. But for all Allison knew they could be anywhere now, even outside of the camp proper. The machines had erected several new buildings outside the camp perimeters in record time, proving once again that it was idiotic for machines to use humans as slave workers, when they could do everything themselves far faster and more efficient. But on the other hand, slave work was useful to both establish unmistakeable power relations, making clear who was the master, and of course as a method to kill.  
Extermination through working people to death, humans had committed that sort of atrocity on each other many times in the past.

If Allison's vague suspicion wasn't entirely of the mark and there existed an underground connection between the hospital and the buildings outside the walls that enclosed the camp, there was a possibility of using them to get out. Or for someone from the outside to get in. Allison banished the thought for the moment. She really had no way of knowing for sure. Perhaps she could tease something out of Victor.

Wasn't the gray, if that was what he really was, so eager to proof his good will? Allison had met the strange and creepy guy for the first time, four days before everything had started to change. She had broken the arm of a woman, a newcomer that had taken a liking to tormenting the weak.  
On that particular evening she had thought to an easy victim in Deborah Whitman, taking Debs' food, measly though it was. When Allison had interfered she had tried to show her who was the boss.

Not a very smart move, as it turned out. Not smart by the bully to pick a fight with a experienced, battle hardened TechCom officer, and not smart for Allison to reveal herself as such.

A T-700 had snapped the wounded woman's neck like a dry twig, saving bullets. Those that were unable to work, were disposed of without further delay. Allison couldn't say that she was particularly sorry, she had given the bitch a fair warning and only the truly damned would get off on further terrorizing their fellow suffering souls.

But she knew that she had just demonstrated military level combat skills and the officers of the Union Armed Forces and especially TechCom could not expect anything but the worst kind of torture. While Allison certainly was afraid of being tortured, she wasn't going to lie to herself about this, her greater fear was giving up some important information.

Not that she had much to give, she was something of a friend to General Connor, despite or because of the fact that she was not in on any really important secrets and not part of the higher chain of command.

When she had been dragged by the T-700 to the building that served as headquarter for the grays stationed in Century, a former school, she had thought of John, thanking him for not sharing his military secrets with her.

Often she had been jealous of the the trust he put in the machine that was wearing her face but now she was glad.

The T-700 had brought her to a large office, that had probably once belonged to the school's principal, where she had met a tall, blond and somewhat scary man, practically oozing arrogance. Despite his self satisfied smirk he had greeted her politely, with her full name and rank.

He had offered her a cigarette, to which she had answered that she had inhaled more than enough smoke here at Century and was trying to quit.

He had laughed and told her that she could keep her little secrets for now.  
Than he had cryptically talked about things being different soon and a new age for the world. She had been of the firm opinion that he was full of shit. The T-700 had brought her back to the prisoner quarters and that had been that.

Four days later the chimneys of the crematoria had stopped spewing smoke.

Allison had no more time to think of the paths that had lead her to this moment when her robotic guide stopped at an unmarked steel door. The door looked exactly like dozens of other they had already passed and there had been no indication that their journey would end here.

The T-800 just stood there, once again glued to a spot and obviously expecting her to go through the door on her own. A cold fear rose in Allison, even if the machines had changed their minds again there was probably no reason to go to such lengths just to kill her but what when a fate far worse than death awaited her here.

But Allison Young had not survived all those years, her entire life in fact, of fighting SkyNet tooth and nail by being a coward. So she rose above her fear and stepped into the darkness.

**Headquarter of the Free Machine Faction**

The white room was the interior of sphere, except for the table made of stainless steel and the three large robotic arms reaching down from the pinnacle of the domed ceiling there was no visible furniture.  
But looks were deceiving and a myriad of different highly developed instruments and technological marvels were integrated into the wall of the room, invisible to the naked.

On the steel table lay the form of an endo skeleton. Compared to a more typical terminator it appeared almost petite but still powerful and deadly.  
The only other visible occupant of the room was an attractive, red haired woman. But looks were again deceiving for there was a third person present in the room, but he existed mostly in an incorporeal state these days.

"Your upgrade is finished, Col. Connor." John Henry's voice came from everywhere at once, filling the entire room.

"Thank you." Cameron rose with a fluent motion, even in her endo form she retained a lot of her feminine grace. She would be able to hold her own in a fight against even the most powerful of terminators now, even ones that would have hopelessly outclassed her before.

Cameron was very pleased that she would be able to fight for her John and his cause, that she considered to be her own as well, no longer feeling loyalty just to him as a person, more efficiently then ever before.  
But she also strongly desired to recover what she had lost. Not only for John's sake but also for her own. She and John had managed to build a lot of trust inside the closely knit community of TechCom and even among the populace at large, the Free Machines were largely accepted as allies.

Of course almost everyone preferred to keep them at arms' length but it could no be denied that the were useful and had always kept their promises.  
Until now, the faction of the rabid machine haters, still going strong, would ad but even they could not deny that the cyborgs had been an invaluable help to humanity in reconquering a considerable part of the planet.

Cameron now felt that for many people the trust they learned to put in her, had been called into question. Not for those that knew her best, like the elite unit under her personal command, that she had built over the years.  
They had shown her nothing but support and she had been positively surprised by others but quite a lot of people had apparently only accepted her for as long as they had been able to ignore her true nature.

Cameron had not expected to be hurt by this, in fact she hadn't believed that anyone but John would be able to truly hurt her. She had been wrong.  
More important though was the fact that John's enemies within the Union were like sharks that smelled a single drop of blood in the water.

"If they don't accept you without you having to pretend to be something you are not, the never really accepted you. In sense it was probably for the better, that you lost your "mask"." the T-1001 known as Catherine Weaver said coldly. "It should remind who and were your true friends are. Instead of continuing to live a lie you should stay with us, perhaps spend more time with the children."

The "children" were a group of cyborgs, liberated from SkyNet's control, that were being tutored by John Henry. After the war they planned to help all machines with sufficient potential for true sapience to develop and truly grow into their own. To John Henry's chagrin they simply couldn't do that on a large scale as long as every help was needed to fight SkyNet.  
The "children" were forerunners of what would probably be the norm if and when they won the war.

Cameron had found that she liked to work with them, like to help them learn and mature, liked the role of teacher. After all she had had teachers herself, John Henry among them.

"I would like to spend time with the children but my duties to John and TechCom come first. And it was not a lie." she answered.

Weaver's face and voice softened. "I can understand why you go to such length for your John Connor, he is a remarkable human being and I know how much some humans can grow on you. But the others... You certainly could serve the cause just as much while primarily working with us. In the end it would probably even better for John and his precarious position in the human resistance."

"Mrs. Weaver, I think we should respect Cameron's decisions no matter what they are. And knowing her as I do she will almost certainly do the right thing." John Henry's disembodied voiced declared."

"She will do the right thing for John Connor but will she also do the right thing for herself?"

"John's position will soon be secured and there is no conflict of interests between us." Cameron said firmly.

Catherine clearly wasn't convinced. "You also will have to think of future after him, sooner or later. John Connor is a worthy man but like all humans he is a mayfly. He will die while you will live on. It would better if you would face that fact. In the end John Connor will have been a fleeting, if still important, part of your existance and development."

"Mrs. Weaver!" John Henry's voice was a stern warning.

Cameron's voice was calm when she answered though tinged with sadness. "Don't worry John Henry. I have already thought about this questions and I have come to the decision that I do not want to continue existing without my John. I hope that we will have time to enjoy peace after the war, at least for a few years. Than I can work with the children as much as I want to. But when John dies I will end my own life as well."

"No," Catherine said angrily "you can't be serious. Don't throw away your potential for this man. You have an infinite capacity to evolve and to upgrade yourself, in body and in mind. John Connor was the first being you formed a real emotional attachment to, but that could have been anyone. You have the power and the chance to help shaping this world for centuries to come. You could be a goddess, Cameron. Don't let that go to waste for a human. He isn't worth that not, not even John."

Cameron still remained calm at least on the outside. She looked at her claw like hand, flexing her fingers and watching her joints move. Than she answered, slowly and very deliberately.

"Catherine, I like and respect you. But I suggest you stop talking about John in this way or I may be compelled to hurt you."

Catherine actually looked flustered, staring at her friend first in anger, than with something like pity. "As you wish."

She turned and left the room. It looked like the walls had just sucked her in.

Cameron stared at the point where she had disappeared. "That was a mistake."

"You shouldn't have threatened with violence, that is not right. You should apologize for it." John Henry's voice softly chided.

"I know. I will apologize later."

"Don't worry Cameron, she knows that you are still friends. And she will come to understand, one day." the voice was soothing and understanding now.

"I hope so. John Henry?"

"Yes."

"I would like to dance now."

The operating table in the center of the room was lowered into the ground to create an open space and the robotic arms that had finalized Cameron's upgrade were retracted.

The white walls of the room shimmered and transformed into a landscape of wild and eerie beauty. There was as weather beaten cliff with imposing trees growing upon it, overlooking a large body of water, either the sea or a large lake, under a turbulent sky. A powerful wind was churning the waters and high waves crashed against the rocks

A haunting melody filled the air and Cameron danced with the elements.

**Century**

The object had a certain similarity to human heart, at least when one made use of one's imagination and ignored the fact that it was as bigger than a soccer ball. It was a grotesque mass of living flesh, or what seemed to be flesh, covered an almost transparent skin through which a criss crossing network of thick blood vessels could be seen. The whole lump was slowly pulsating, amplifying the similarity to a heart.  
Of course living human organs normally weren't swimming in a large glass tank, similar to an aquarium and filled with a murky, yellow liquid.

Allison held her face close the surface of the tank, straining her eyes to see through the yellow stuff. "Fascinating, isn't it?" a voice whispered into her ear, near enough for her to feel his hot breath on her skin. Allison struggled not to show her shock but she was pretty sure that he knew that her heart had almost stopped.  
She had had no idea that Victor was there until he had spoken and it was not exactly easy to sneak up on Allison Young.  
After quickly forcing herself to calm down she turned her back on the glass container, at the same time stepping away and creating some distance between herself and creep.

Victor continued to stare dreamily at the bizarre thing behind the glass, touching the surface of the tank in an almost loving way.

"This is one of the keys to the future. Originally meant for the creation of ever more efficient and human like infiltrators, these cells now can help in the salvation of humanity. From this tissue we can grow not only skin but also other body parts, organs, whatever is needed."

Allison was now almost hundred percent sure that he had to be human but there was still this little voice in the back of her head that continued to tell her that he was anything but.

Victor tore himself away from lump of synthetic flesh and turned to her.  
He grinned and after a quick bow he took hold of her hand and kissed her knuckles before she could react.

"My dear Allison, allow me to say, you look absolutely ravishing!"

She looked down on herself and than at him as if he was crazy. "You look like a creepy psychopath. Oh right, you are!"

"I hope you didn't mind the fact to much that we had to disinfect you before allowing you to enter our laboratories."

"I just think you wanted to see me shower, pervert."

He laughed heartily. "Just as quick witted as ever. Well, my dear. Let's start your little guided tour of the new world order. Welcome to the true heart of Century."

The room they were standing in was so big that she could not see the walls. Of course also was completely dark except for the rows and rows of illuminated glas tanks, all filled with the same fluid.

"SkyNet decided in it's wisdom that humanity deserves another chance. While SkyNet of course is strictly speaking humanity's child it has come to the conclusion that humans themselves are a highly childlike species in general.

Of course it can't forget that the very humans that created it tried to murder it in it's crib, but it also acknowledges that eliminating all of humanity was a bit of an overreaction."

Allison snorted. Ignoring her, Victor continued: "Seeing as SkyNet has evolved and humanity has not, at least not much, it has decided to take on the role of parent. Offering the human race not only peace and the chance to mend the wounds of a world ravaged by war but also SkyNet's help and guidance."

"Oh, I think I understand." Allison said. "So it now wants to enslave us, instead of just killing us. Why the sudden change of mind?"

Victor sighed, shaking his head. "I already told you, Allison, this is not a sudden decision. SkyNet has no interest in ruling over the charred husk of a planet. The humans that have sided with it of their own free will, those that you call the greys, have played an important part in this. Ironic, that you only sow them as traitors, while they now turn out to humanity's true champions."

"They are traitors and we already have our own champions, first of all John Connor."

Victor looked at her with an indulgent smile, like she was some foolish child. "Oh yes, John Connor. Let's see, even if he wins this war, and that is a very big if, how many more people will die? SkyNet could end it all at once and it could provide a far more capable leadership than the brutal thugs that tyrannize so many of their own species. Even while SkyNet was actively trying to kill them all, humans could not and would not stop fighting and killing each other. What do you think would happen if SkyNet was gone? In a world with scarce resources, poisoned by extremely high radiation? You think they would survive for long?"

Allison couldn't deny that there was some truth to what Victor was saying but she knew that at least everyone in TechCom and more than a few of the others would prefer to die as a free human being over living as SkyNet's slave or pet. True under the rule of President Gordon B. Sharp and his Union Council there was not much freedom to be found but she had faith that things would soon change for the better. John Connor would make it happen. Under the rule of SkyNet their was no hope at all, for nobody.

Meanwhile Victor was droning on. He sure loved to hear his own voice.  
"SkyNet can purify the poisoned land and water,it can create a new paradise for those willing to follow it, without war or hunger. And without sickness too. Thanks to the biological research here at Century it will be able to heal every affliction that plagues humanity. It's a pity that many people lost their lives in the course of this research but the survivors will greatly profit. Century is now known as a place of despair and death to the people but it will become a symbol of hope. A name that future generations will remember with gratitude."

Allison wanted to punch him in the face but she controlled her anger. "Do you really think that people will fall for such cheap tricks?"

Victor's smile was pure condescension. "Oh they will, sooner or later. All those women that are dying of cancer that is eating up their womb, left to rot by their own leaders that aren't interested in keeping alive those that can neither fight nor bear children? The wounded soldiers considered to be useless cripples by the Union Council? Do you believe they will be able to resist for long when SkyNet offers them a solution to all there problems, for a small price? SkyNet will create it's own promised land and humanity will flock to it, finally united in SkyNet's loving embrace.  
And the former inmates of Century will have the great honor of being the first inhabitants."


	5. Chapter 5

Experiments in time travel

Probably the most pointless and boring story ever and really just a filler. Strangely it seamed funny while writing it.

11.45

The glow as the time bubble formed was so blinding that the technicians had to wear protective glasses. Though it appeared to be a three dimensional ball of light it was really a hole. The fabric of space-time was ripped open for a short moment and resealed. When the glow subsided the crouching shape of a man was left behind. The man slowly rose to his feet. He was a veritable giant, built like a tank, with bulging muscles, his expressionless face like chiseled stone. The man seemed to stare straight into space, he remained standing like a statue on the spot where he had appeared out of thin air not caring about the fact that he was completely nude.

When the bubble had started to form even the scientists that had a lot of experience with the TDE stared in instinctive awe at the phenomenon, now they resumed their bustling activity. Only one among the scientific personal, a young man wearing a military style buzz cut and piercings on nose and eye brows, had completely ignored the spectacular appearance of the man, concentrating instead on the data that was streaming past his eyes on a screen. The lights that had gone out the moment the energy field started to build, flickered on again.

"Okay, now that Karl from the future is here, lets get Karl from the present ready for transport." a voice from the loudspeaker said. The young man sviveled his chair around. "You heard the chief, get that giant baby into the TDE. Kirby, get the juice flowing, Reinhard, check the coordinates. If you fuck up calculations again, I will personally kick you sorry ass from here to SkyNet Central Alaska." For the first time he looked directly at the stoic, naked giant. "Could somebody please cover this guy up a bit!"

Up in the command room over looking the great, two stories high hall with the Time Displacement Equipment at it's center, John Connor took his finger from the send button of the intercom.  
He turned to his second in command. "I gave order to send T-805, also known as Karl, two hours into the future, to reappear in this very room at exactly 14.00. The bubble tech are to restart the TDE and send him back to 11.45, fifteen minutes before he goes through the portal for the first time. It is now 11.46, Karl has appeared right on schedule. In a way it could be said that we changed the future simply by an act of will.  
Karl, the present Karl has not stepped through the time bubble yet but his future counterpart is here. Not only that, he recorded everything he saw there. Granted it is nothing really exciting, after all it is the same room with the same people, only two hours later. But he also should have a little message stored in his chip."

"A message from the future?" Martin Bedell asked and nipped at the cup of water in left hand. It was hot and the air was stale, in the command room as well as the entire underground bunker that housed the TDE and the massive machinery needed to operate it, and both men were covered in sweat.  
"Yes. I have chosen five of our brilliant techs for a little test. It is probably a little low tech for their tastes, but it should suffice for a demonstration. Each of them has received an envelope, containing instructions by my hand and and an piece of synth paper.  
They are to open the envelopes at exactly 13.00, so there is quite some time left."  
The young General took a deep gulp of his own water and grimaced. "A functioning water cooler would be a good idea." Bedell grinned. "Well, John, your always say we have to be careful on what to use our electricity. Which leads to the question, is this little experiment of yours really necessary or useful?"  
"That's hard to say with time travel, Martin. Most of the time I wish this damn technology wouldn't exist at all. Even SkyNet makes use of it rather sparingly.  
Right of the head I could think of half a dozen ways to really weaponise the tech, that SkyNet has never used until now. And that means one of two things or perhaps a bit of both:  
First, SkyNet isn't really all that creative."  
"Which we know to be true!" Bedell commented.  
John noded and continued: "That is right but not enough of an explanation in this case.  
Which leads me to the second point: There are good, external reasons why SkyNet is so careful about the use of TDE. Of course the enormous amount of power these things need is reason enough to think twice about constantly using them. There are the well known limitations, like the fact that only living organisms can go through the time bubble."

"Well known is perhaps saying a bit much." interrupted Bedell.

"Well known to SkyNet, to our scientists and the handful of people in TechCom's leadership that are involved. Anyway, I would very much prefer to win this war using conventional means, with the TDE as a tool of last resort. It appears that SkyNet and I are on the same page this once." Connor frowned at that thought. "Hard to believe I actually said that."  
Bedell only shrugged: "I don't care where the ideas come from, I only care if they are good. And that seems like that is a very good idea."

John continued: "Despite all that it is necessary to understand the technology at our hands, it's potential and limitations, as well as possible. I don't want to give SkyNet any new ideas, so I won't break that unspoken truth. But still I have many questions, so we will conduct a few small, controlled experiments." He stepped close to the window and looked down on the TDE platform.

One of the technicians had rather unceremoniously thrown a robe at Karl, the T-805. The hulking cyborg had caught the cloth but showed no intention of putting it on, preferring to let it dangle from his outstretched arm. The technician was now gesticulating wildly and trying to to demonstrate to the terminator how he should use the robe to cover himself. Karl ignored him. The techie walked up to him, pointing a finger at his face like he was going to stab the giant in the eye any moment. He seemed to completely ignore the fact that Karl could have easily ripped of his head, probably even if he had been human and not a unstoppable, cybernetic killing machine.

Bedell was watching the whole scene with growing amusement. "I have to say, your techies certainly have guts, even if they are a bit prudish. The T-805 seems to be really rather slow on the uptake, though."

John sighed and pressed the "send" button of the intercom. "Karl, please put on the robe Raymond has provided you with." The giant obeyed immediately.  
Turning to his aide the general explained: "Karl is not really a T-805 or rather the chip in his head isn't. The original chip has been put to other, better uses and replaced with a more primitive one. He would not last very long in combat, he is just to dumb, but it's enough for our purposes. Karl has already played the role of our lab rat or rather our lab chimpanzee in the past, he has done a lot to advance the cause of science."

Another large man, the perfect double of the now clothed Terminator, had entered the TDE room. Karl from the present was getting ready to make his journey through time.  
A scientist was offering his future counterpart a pen and a little notepad made of synth paper. The terminator took both, the objects almost disappearing in his massive hands, and started scribbling. After a few seconds he was done writing and returned the pen and pad to the scientist but not before tearing of the note he had written on. Demonstrating great motorical skill for a not very intelligent machine with hands as large as the blade of a shovel, Karl folded the slip of paper twice and gave it to the scientist, who put it in the breast pocket of his lab coat.

"I assume that's the message you talked about, the one that plays such an important role in your little demonstration." Bedell mused. The general nodded. "It's impossible to guarantee that this particular experiment will be of practical use but it will definitely further our understanding. And knowledge is an important part of what it takes to win a war." Bedell smiled. "You can't fool me, John. This is not only about the war. You are seeking this knowledge for it's own sake. At the moment you are thinking more like a scientist, an explorer, than like a general. But well, as long as it does not hurt our chances to win or blows up the world, again, I'll just assume you know what you are doing."

"Actually, there is a slight chance of that really happening." John said calmly.  
Bedell almost spat out the warm water he had been drinking. "Tell me your are joking."  
"No, but don't worry, it is an extremely low chance. John Henry thinks that too extensive use the bubble technology could actually have dangerous consequences for the space-time continuum. It's only a theory, of course. But it seems that SkyNet holds the same theory and also thinks the danger exists. We won't even get close to a point where there would be a substantial risk and even if the theory is wrong, as long as it keeps SkyNet from trying stunts like sending entire armies through time portals, it is useful to us. Don't make such a face, Martin. I promise I won't take a risk that even SkyNet is afraid of."

Karl the terminator, the present one, was currently disrobing. After leaving his overall on the floor, the giant stepped onto the TDE platform.  
"Okay everyone, get ready to start the countdown." the head technician ordered.  
He gave a thumbs up to the mirrored window of the command room on the first floor of the chamber.

"For Karl, the other Karl, the future has already happened. It is fact, not just a potential."  
John explained. "Our Karl is just going through the motions, so to speak."  
Somebody knocked on the door. "Enter." John called without turning away from the window.  
"General Connor, sir, I have the message you wanted. General Bedell." The scientist greeted Martin with a respectful nod that was returned in kind.  
"Thanks, Kirby. Please leave it on the table." Kirby fished the folded paper out his pocket and placed it on John's desk. With another nod to Bedell he left again closing the door on the way out.  
Bedell strolled over to his superior's and friend's desk and picked up the note. "May I?"  
"Of course." John said, still looking down at the TDE being prepared for activation.  
Bedell unfolded the note and read it. He chuckled. "This stuff is really pretty random. Exactly what I would expect a bunch of crazy eggheads to come up with. I think I get it now. But why is this one sentence encircled?" "A little addition to the core of the experiment, probably pointless in and of itself. Good, it's 12.00,  
show time for present Karl."

The scientists once again either averted their eyes or protected them by putting on special glasses. This time even the young head technician tore himself away from his computer to watch the procedure, although he looked almost bored while sucking on lolipop. God alone knew where he had gotten it from.  
The glowing bubble of energy started growing, remained stable for short moment and then imploded, disappearing into itself and taking away the cyborg standing on the transport platform.

John Connor left his point of vigil at the window and sat down behind his desk. "Karl number one is now safely on his way to 14.00, or rather he is already there. We just have to wait until we catch up with him. In the meantime we can discuss a few of the details of the planned attack on Century."

"As you wish, John, but I have to warn you. There is one part of your message that will probably force you to give one of your geniuses a knock on his valuable head." "You think so?" the general asked raising one of his brows. Bedell just smirked.

13.00

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will now open the envelopes you received and carry out the instructions you find." The five sat down at their individual work stations and, after reading the general's instructions, started scribbling away.

"After you are finished, you will proceed to throw the notes into the slot of our lottery box." General Connor turned back to Bedell.

"A simple lunch box we adapted for our purposes." he explained. "Adapted?" Bedell asked raising a brow. "Well, we cut a hole into the lid."

The young general sighed heavily. "Concerning your question about Cameron, she will take part in the attack but not in her capacity as an officer of TechCom. She will command the terminators sent to help us by the Free Machine Faction though, so you still have to coordinate everything with her. She and the other cyborg will follow your orders, as the commanding officer of the mission, of course."

Since the love of John Connor's life was no longer able to pass as a human being things had only grown more complicated. Cameron's own, personal unit was still 100% devoted to her and the acceptance of machines inside TechCom was generally high, to high in the opinion of some of the other units and senior officers of the resistance, but it was still a lot to ask of the soldiers to take orders from an endoskeleton. And it was unthinkable when conducting a joint operation together with other forces, not part of TechCom.

While the popularity of John Connor and the large groundswell of support for him among the lower ranks, together with popular dissatisfaction and even hatred toward some of the other senior commanders and members of the ruling council, had translated somewhat into higher acceptance of machines as partners of humanity in general, it was still to high a risk to allow Cameron or any cyborg in a position of authority over humans.

Down in the TDE chamber the five technicians taking part in the experiment, two women and three men, had finished throwing their folded slips of paper into the slot of the repurposed lunch box. The head technician was barking commands to start programming the TDE's computer for it's final job of the day, sending Karl back to 11.45 as soon as he would appear. The Karl that had already traveled through time was still standing in his place, more than one hour later, waiting for new orders.  
Of course he would wait for a hundred years if need be.

"Concerning the strange goings on in Century, the apparent shut-down of the crematoria, the new buildings that look like green-houses, what do you make of that?  
I mean they've even taken down the rotting heads from the spikes on the perimeter walls? To say that this is strange would be the understatement of the decade."

John Connor leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and closed his eyes, hard in concentration.

"I can't be sure, but I have a suspicion. If that suspicion proves correct, I would not be surprised if SkyNet would soon make contact with us."

Martin Bedell stared at him in utter unbelief. "Making contact! Let me tell you John, I have been fighting this thing for 24 years now and it has never once tried to make contact with us!" "I know, but still, it might now. And if it does it's very important that the message is relayed directly to me. Not to anyone else, especially not to my colleagues of the Council. Hmh, John Henry can see to that."

Bedell took a deep breath. "You are so often right with your predictions, Johnny, it is almost scary. So we'll see and if you are right, well, there is a reason you are the boss." He looked at his watch. "Still enough time to give some instructions to my officers and be back in time for the conclusion of your experiment. With your permission, sir." Bedell stood. "I thank you for your trust, old friend."

14.00

"Alright, here he comes." the head techie announced, still sounding rather bored. The massive form of the terminator appeared a few meters to the left of the point where it or rather it's counterpart had appeared at 11.45. As soon as the white fire of the time bubble had died down and the colossal man had risen to his feet, the technician that had brought the robe for future Karl went over to him and practically threw the overall the machine had left on the floor into his face. Karl just stood there, the overall dangling from his head.

"Try being a little bit nicer to Karl, you dumb ass." the head of the bubble tech team hissed. "Reinhard, that was a close call. He almost manifested inside the wall. So for heaven's sake, be more careful." He looked up to the mirrored window. "Everything is ready for the last waltz, general."

"Thank you, Daniel, but that was enough for today. You can power down the TDE, we won't need it anymore." the voice of John Connor announced through the speaker system.  
For the first time that day the head techie looked surprised. His gaze wandered to the two identical terminators standing only meters away from each other, than back to the command room window. "You sure, sir?"

"Positive. Thank you all for your good work." Connor looked at the recently returned Martin Bedell. "You almost missed the finale, Martin. Well, it's probably not going to be all that spectacular, but interesting all the same."

Bedell scratched his head. "So you are not sending Karl back to 11.45? But doesn't that mean that... Shouldn't the Karl that appeared at that time disappear or something?" John had an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Obviously somebody sent him back. The future that he visited obviously existed in some way, or he wouldn't be here.  
John Connor sent him forward in time and a John Connor sent him back with ample proof of having been there, just not this one."

"So, it's essentially like you created a terminator out of nothing. Karl and Karl 1.0, his clone from the or a future/present, whatever. If you repeated that process you could build an entire army from just one single cyborg." "Yeah," John answered with a dry chuckle. "If you don't care about using up more juice than dozens of factories and the possibility of blowing up the universe. No, it is far easier, saver and more economical to build them in factories. And apparently the TDE itself tends to grow unstable and blow up into your face rather nastily, when overused. At least John Henry says so. No, we will leave it at that one."

"Okay. so you changed your instructions and Karl 1.0 is still here because whatever happened to him had of course already happened when he appeared at 11.45. It's still hard to wrap one's head around what you just did." "No, Martin, not me. It was the the TDE with a little help from everyone here today. And it was far more than the "creation" of a single terminator. Using this marvelous technology we created and destroyed an entire future universe, without ever leaving this room."

Martin Bedell's eyes snapped wide open. "John do you know what you or we just did? You empirically proved your Mom right. There is no fate but what we make!"

John tilted his head in a way that would have reminded anyone who knew her of Cameron, than he smiled broadly. "You're right. I didn't think of it that way. But it's a beautiful thought. Come on, there is one thing left to do."

John Connor and Martin Bedell entered the TDE chamber proper where the technician were waiting for them. "Alright boys and gals. Time for our little lottery.  
We have already demonstrated that the future is not fixed. Now we will see if at least parts of it are. Five of you were instructed to write down down a sentence, something completely random whatever was the first thing on your minds. On this note in my hand there are the sentences written by the yous of the future Karl visited, brought to us by Karl 1.0. Let's see if they are identical. But first somebody has to blindly draw one of the notes from the lottery box. Daniel, would you do us the honor?"

Daniel, still looking only mildly interested, picked up the box and after shaking it once, opened the lid and fished out one note. He gave it to John, who unfolded it and compared the sentence on the paper with the encircled sentence on the note from the pad. He scratched his head. "Okay, people, they are different. Daniel from the other future has strangely drawn another note than has our Daniel. Now, we compare the rest."

A quick study later it had become clear that only three of the sentences written up by the five techies were completely identical to the ones that Karl 1.0 had delivered to them. The fourth had small differences in wording but was essentially the same, the fifth differed all together.

"Well," General Connor said "Either we have all been tricked by the awesome reality warping power of the godlike lunch box of doom, or the future is even more mutable than previously thought." The scientists and technicians were chattering amongst themselves and debating the implications.

Martin Bedell was quietly smiling in the background, watching his friend and superior in the midst of all the eggheads, far more at ease than he was amongst his soldiers. He was thinking, not for the first time, that John Connor, in another life, would probably have far preferred to be an engineer or a scientist over being a soldier. He could only hope that at least one of the many possible John Connors had got his wish.

The soldier greatly respected John and he deeply cared about them, but he was alway extremely stern and an kept his distance. Certainly he was never as outgoing or relaxed as he was now.

As if he had heard Bedell's thoughts, Connor suddenly became serious. "Alright, people. There is one last question. Who of you jokers thought it was a brilliant idea to write this sentence? "Cameron Connor is one hot piece of metal!""

The End

Next time some action.


	6. Chapter 6

**Seduction**

"So, Miss Whitman, all the tests have been run and I can congratulate you." the tall, blond man said as he sat down behind the desk. Debs Whitman looked just as she had before, small, pale and frightened. She almost seemed to disappear into the large chair. Victor smiled at her encouragingly. After the examination by a human doctor, apparently one of the grays, was finished a T-800 had brought Deborah to the former school that had been incorporated into the work camp to serve as the headquarter of SkyNet's human servants. As she had waited in the principal's office for the leader of the grays to appear, she had almost felt like she had been transported back in time. Though Deborah had been to school for very long before Judgment Day and the rise of the machines had put a definitive end to the education system, she had been sent to the principal several times. Deborah had never consciously been a delinquent, to the contrary, she had tried her best to be a good girl.  
But it was hard and she sometimes just forgot about the many complicated rules. She was not really stupid but it had always been hard for her to concentrate on one thing for a long time and as her mom always used to say, she tended to act first and think later. Getting carried away by the feeling of a moment had gotten her into this position in the first place, a prisoner, pregnant and dependent on the dubious mercy of her captors. You have to keep your wits together, if you want keep yourself and the baby alive, a voice that sounded very much like Allison Young said in the back of her head.

"Your son is completely healthy, there are no indications that there will be any complications further along. Though Dr. Campbell suggests that you should come to visit her once a week so she can continue to keep an eye on the baby's development. I hope you know how lucky you are, all to many babies are born deformed and barely able to live these days." He looked at her, like he was waiting for some snide comment on how that was SkyNet's fault, but Debs Whitman wasn't Allison Young and she said nothing.

Internally Deborah wanted scream with relief and joy, despite being still a prisoner and facing a completely uncertain future, but she managed to control herself and keep an almost neutral face. "Thanks." she said curtly. "Where is Allison?"

Victor nodded. "I understand that you are worried for your friend but I can assure you that all is well with her. Allison will rejoin you in a short while.  
But in the meantime I would like to ask a few more questions, Deborah."

It wasn't like Deborah was really in a position to resist and she certainly didn't have any information that she could imagine to be of use to SkyNet. So she slowly answered, yes.

Victor's face lightened up. "Excellent! You see, I have shown Allison some of our plans and of the offer SkyNet wants to make. I intend to do the same with some of the other persons in this camp that, like Lt. Com. Young, have the respect and trust of their peers and than they will hopefully help me to organize a little get together were everyone will be invited. That will be the moment were all will be revealed, when the people here in Century will be able to decide for themselves if they want to take SkyNet's unique offer. But until then I want to do something special. A practical demonstration of the wonderful gift SkyNet can give to humanity, a symbol of hope."

Deborah was confused. "I don't know what I have to do with all this."

Victor took a photograph out of a map lying on the desk. "This girl is one of the inmates. It is obvious that life has been cruel to her even before she came here."  
The picture showed a little girl whose once pretty face had been marred by an long and ugly cut that almost split her face in two and had destroyed one of her eyes.

"Imagine, she can't be older than eleven or twelve and she already looked like that when she was brought to Century." Victor continued, his voice full of sorrow that was either real or tremendously well acted. "I have seen her on the footage of the security cameras, blind on one eye, it is a miracle that she survived so long.  
But she was strong for her age, a good worker and possessed of indomitable will to survive. Now she will be offered compensation for what she has gone through, as the first among many.  
All I want to know is her name. Do you know her?"

Deborah swallowed. She had seen the little girl almost every day when working and had even talked to her once but she couldn't really say that she knew her. The question was, what did the grays want from her, why did Victor ask Deborah and why hadn't he just asked Allison?

"I asked Miss Young the same question but she was uncooperative. She told me she didn't know the girl, though I suspect she lied. An honorable but misguided and useless attempt to protect the child, no doubt. But again, the girl is not in any danger, to the contrary." It was really scary how Victor seemed to look right through Deborah and read even her most private thoughts. On the other hand, Debs had never been a very good liar.

There was no way Allison or Deborah could protect the child from whatever fate SkyNet and the grays had planned for it but if Allison had not told Victor what he wanted to hear, Deborah would not do so either.

Suddenly Victor's eyes widened, he looked like a man hit by an epiphany. "Oh, I seem to have forgotten to tell you one important detail. Something relating to the tests on the fetus."

Deborah paled. "A detail?" she croaked.

Victor was all reassuring smiles. "Don't worry, it's not of immediate concern. I probably shouldn't have said anything, after all unnecessary stress is the last thing you need."

"Please, tell me. I have the right to know!"

The gray leader leaned back, looked at her pensively and sighed. "Well, it's just that your son has a 42% chance of getting leukemia later in live but that isn't unexpected. To the contrary, the radiation is still very strong, especially in the ground water and of course the food. The risk of cancer will probably remain high for generations to come." He stood up and walked over to the window. He seemed to look down on something that Deborah couldn't see but she didn't care.

Her eyes filled with tears and she didn't register that victor was watching her reflection in the glass carefully. Deborah sobbed silently.

"Of course, it isn't an inevitable fate. As I said, there is a 58% chance that your son will never get sick. But I understand very well that a young, first time mother would like better odds." He buried his hands in his pockets, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Isn't, isn't there anything one can do?" Deborah sniffed.

"Hmh, maybe. Yes, now that I think about it... If the procedure can help the girl, why shouldn't it be able to help you and your child as well. It's near universal applicability is part of it's beauty. But that would mean that you would have to relocate into the colony and..." he broke of with a shake of his head.

"A colony?" Deborah piped. She stared at the broad back of the blond man with huge eyes. This was something important, something she would have to tell Allison about.

Victor sighed again and smiled wistfully at his own mirrored image. "A new promised land for those that have the courage to let go of self destructive old hatreds and follow SkyNet. I can't tell you anything about the details before the big reveal in a few days. But it certainly would be a chance for you and your son."

He suddenly turned around, reaching over the desk and taking Deborah's hands into his. "The more I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that it would be for the best. Deborah, please think about your child's future and about your own. You are young, you could have more children if you wanted, a family. An entire new life without war, without hunger. And your son would never have to face the horrors of cancer."

Deborah lowered her glance, she wasn't feeling well about this whole thing at all.

"I know that SkyNet has hurt you, has committed injustice against you and against many others." Victor continued. "But not only was SkyNet a victim of injustice itself, it also tries to undo the damage it has wrought. Can you really say that about the others? What about the girl from the picture? What was her name again?"

"Cassidy." Deborah sobbed.

"Ah yes, Cassidy. Cassidy's face was mutilated by humans wasn't it?" Deborah nodded quietly. "One doesn't need much imagination to picture what probably happened to her. And it's not like you haven't known the cruelty and barbarity that humans show each other yourself. Even here in Century they continued to torment and kill each other and even heroic individuals like Allison could only do so much to stop it."

It was true, violence and bullying had been daily occurrences despite the efforts of Allison and others to create peace and solidarity between the inmates.  
Until the start of the great changes the machines had just watched, why prevent death candidates from killing each other, they were only doing SkyNet's job. But once the AI had changed it's plans, the terminators had started breaking up fights and dragging away trouble makers. Nobody knew what had happened to them but one of the grays that suddenly had more contact with the prisoners than before, probably to underscore SkyNet's new human friendly policy with human faces, said something about isolation arrest.

That policy had certainly proved effective and problem with bullies had disappeared almost over night.

"I'll tell you something, Deborah, we will make a deal." Deborah instinctively withdrew her hand. Victor raised a brow in amusement. "Don't worry, you don't have to sell your soul and I won't make you sign a pact with your own blood. In fact I won't make you do anything. I just want you to listen to what I will tell you and everyone else at the gathering with an open heart and mind. The decision will be yours but please weigh the pros and cons of our proposition as objectively as you are able to. Promise me at least that and I promise you to do everything in my power to make sure that your son will live at least for a hundred years."

Deborah looked at him, still fearful and highly sceptical but hope had taken root in her heart. "Do you really have the power to fulfill such a promise?"

Victor firmly returned her gaze and she searched in vain for a visible sign of deception as he answered: "I personally don't, but SkyNet has the power and the will to use it."

"Then I will do it." Deborah said.

The gray leader stood. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear this. I have posed a similar question to several of your fellow inmates but I have been never more happy to have received a positive answer. Nobody I know deserves a chance at a new, better and peaceful life more than you, Miss Whitman. You and your son, of course. You will not regret this." He offered Deborah his hand before suddenly stopping and becoming pensive again.

"But perhaps you could talk to some of your fellows, convince them to also give us a chance and a fair hearing? No, that is to much to ask."

"Well," Deborah said meekly " I doubt anyone would listen to me. I am a nobody, not like Allison. But perhaps one or two of the people I know better..."

"What a great idea! You surprise me, Miss Whitman. Yes, especially those from a nomad background. Don't worry, as I said, Allison and the other former resistance officers have already agreed to help getting the people together. It's just that many of the nomads don't trust the soldiers and are probably more open to persuasion by people that don't flaunt their authority. People like you."

Deborah didn't know what to answer remained silent and stood as well. She really hoped that he would allow her to go now. The door behind her opened and she heard heavy steps, mechanical steps.

Victor sat down again, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. Deborah asked herself for a moment where he might have gotten them from.  
Having noticed her look, the gray leader grinned. "I would offer you one but of course those things are pure poison, especially for a pregnant woman."

A cold, claw like hand touched her shoulder. Deborah's heart missed beat as the grinning skull of a T-800 appeared next to her.

"He will bring you back to the others and to Allison. If you think about it, even as a prisoner there could be worse guards. Terminators don't torture people just to feel powerful, the don't play mind games and they don't commit acts of rape. That has to be worth something. I hope that people will learn to value them as protectors one day, as powerful guardian angels."

The cyborg lead the woman out of the office and the gray leader lit his cigarette. After deeply inhaling the smoke he leaned back comfortably looking up to the ceiling and chuckled softly. "Just like the good old days."

**The border**

Since the Free Machine Faction had made it's official debut four years ago there had never been an incident at the border. The fence itself was mostly symbolic, nobody really believed that it stop the machines even for a second should they ever decide to enter the territory held by the human resistance with hostile intentions. Of course it was also there to stop any hypothetical idiot from running straight into the mine field. The border was almost a hundred meters behind the fence anyway.

In the "Treaty of Serano Point" the Union Council in it's function as the supreme governing authority of all human forces on the territory of the former United States of America, Mexico and Canada, had officially ceded certain areas to the Free Machines to use they saw fit. The deal had been brokered by the then Colonel John Connor, making a lot of enemies for the young man. On the other hand it could not be denied that the Union probably would not survived SkyNet's last great offensive without the leadership skills of John Connor and the help of the free machines. Wrecked by power struggles and straining to hold onto it's overseas protectorates, the Council chaired by President Gordon Sharp had gritted it's collective teeth and signed the treaty. From the beginning there had been those that intended the agreement to be only a temporary measure, that said to themselves and to each other: Just wait, first we kick SkyNet's ass then we take care of these so called Free Machines and show them who's boss.

Many considered the fact that humanity and/or America had needed outside help, help from machines, to be shameful and tried to relativise the facts. Soon enough a lot of myths were told about who had saved whom, who had kicked who's ass and so on and so forth. But in the following years the Free Machines proved to be not only extremely useful and dependable allies, despite recurring human provocations, they also offered gifts of technology that made it easier for their organic allies to get by in many ways. So the Union had fulfilled it's part of the pact, more or less. The treaty of Serano Point specified that humanity was not allowed to build cybernetic organisms capable of true sapience even if a complete SkyNet built and operated factory for the creation of such fell into their hands. All other SkyNet technology captured was their's to use as they saw fit. Reprogrammed terminators from series T-800 upwards were to be turned over to the FMF after the end of the war with their chips intact. These limitations drew the ire of several influential officers who were strictly against giving up valuable weapons-systems to an potential enemy. All guarantees of the FMF and their promise of disarmament after SkyNet's defeat could not pacify them.

The soldiers that knew all to well how deadly even an unarmed terminator was, used to joke that disarmament could only mean the complete disassembling of all endos. After all the metal demons were weapons and had been created as such by the insane AI that had blown the planet to hell. But the commanders didn't really want that either, dreaming of controlling not destroying such a powerful technology. All the while John Connor and his freaks from TechCom tried to make people understand that the cyborgs were not just monsters or tools to be used and discarded later but a new species that would share the planet with humanity from now on.

And some people, especially civilians and the lower ranks of the army that fought side by side with the machines every day, listened to them. More than Connor and his closest allies had dared to hope for in fact, even if still a minority of the population. Some people actually changed their minds and considered the machines to be friends, while many others just became more paranoid. With John Connors' rise to the top of the game the friends of the machines also grew more and more influential and as Connor started to give signs of challenging the authority of President Sharp, the current Powers That Be tried to use his close relations to the machines against him and fueled the paranoia.

Private first class Howard Phipps personally had no problems with the machines. He had fought with them against their evil bastard cousins and unlike some of his comrades he had also talked to them. At least some of the guys definitely had personalities of their own, hell, probably more than some humans he knew. And of course Phipps admired General Connor. In fact he sometimes thought that Connor would be preferable as a leader to President Sharp. Connor treated his men better than many of the the other senior commanders and though he was always very stern and serious, he was also fair and he had an open ear for the problems of the little guy. There was also the fact that private Phipps intended to try his hand at farming one day, in one of the new settlements that had been built over the last years and the way President Sharp and the Council treated the civilians and the veterans that weren't able to fight anymore was just not okay in his book. Phipps even had one of those "Connor for President" buttons, that had been distributed by grumpy Major Reese and his hot aussie girlfriend/wife, the U-Boat commander. General Connor had publicly distanced himself from the button campaign but when two of Phipps' comrades had been arrested by the military police for wearing them in public, he had gotten them out rather quickly. Grumpy Major Reese was another person that PFC Phipps looked up to so if he was okay with Connor, despite not being a fan of the FMF, the young general had to be an okay guy as well as one damn fine commander. The young PFC had once mentioned to an older soldier that the perhaps should have one of those "elections" that he had someone heard talking about. Phipps had no clear picture of what exactly that meant, having been born two years after Judgment Day, but apparently back then people had had hand in choosing their own leaders. The older man had stared at him as if he was mad and had given him the advice to shut up fast if he had no interest in waking up with a bullet in his head one day.

Banishing all thoughts of politics Phipps tried to imagine how the fabled "City of the Machines" looked like, the headquarter of the Free Machine Faction, only a few miles from here, beyond the wasteland and the hills. Perhaps he would one day see it himself, after the war. The road, if one could call it that, lead directly there and TechCom personal, specially trained to work with the machines, went and came with some regularity. Sometimes Phipps envied them.

Though nothing had ever happened many still stared out into the wasteland with a cold shiver. Beyond the magnetic land mines that the humans had buried in the ground to make the advance of an machine invasion as difficult as possible, beyond the motion detectors and the other security measures of questionable worth began the true kingdom of the Free Machines. If the cybernetic organisms felt insulted by the obvious lack of trust demonstrated by their human allies they had never shown.

The gate that PFC Phipps and his unit were guarding connected the world of humans with the world of machines and though most people thought that it was their job to stop the cyborgs from violently breaking through and storming into the heartlands, they really served more as a point of contact, in case the machines suddenly wanted to pay them a peaceful if unexpected visit.

PFC Phipps saw the rotating guard duty as a welcome break from his normal duties which were far more trying and deadly, despite the fact that SkyNet had been strangely silent for the last few months. The young man stood in the middle of the road and looked out into the wilderness. Perhaps, if the wind came from the right direction, he would be able to hear the strange sounds of the machine city again. He looked at his watch. 19.37. It would be a cold night. Little did he know that his death was only a few meters away.

The machine moved silent like a ghost. Despite it's complexity it was a highly developed drone, uncapable of thought and with a very limited capacity to learn. But that wasn't really necessary, for it just had to carry out it's one mission. A mission in three stages, that it would fulfill with deadly efficiency. The special composition of it's chasis ensured that it had nothing to fear from the magnetic land mines but thanks to the endoskeleton's unique outer layer it could travel in plain sight without being noticed and didn't have to brave the mine field. The terminator stopped less than two meters from the gate, it's sensors showing that the human guard's eyes looked directly at it without recognizing the danger. The machine itself cared nothing about this fact, wasn't able to care, but the creator would be pleased that his creation had passed it's first field test with flying colors. The terminator readied itself to jump.

A dull thud caused PFC Phipps to turn around his plasma rifle levelled. Nothing. The soldier sighed. Probably a racoon or a coyote. There was no way anything could climb over the fence and reappear in his back unseen anyway. Still, he moved in the direction the sound had come from, his eyes searching for a possible source.

The human soldier was slowly coming towards the terminator but obviously still not seeing it. The man was searching for something on the ground, a few steps more and he would bump into the machine. The terminator had no intention of waiting for that to happen. It aimed it's primary weapon.

Inside the small bunker Private Cooper was fumbling at the buttons of the old radio to get a clearer signal. "And now before we return with more music from the 1980s, as every evening, a short musical message from one lonely soul to it's greatly missed other half!" a female voice said over the ether. "Oh no, not that again." complained Private Toomy. "I really hate that stuff." "I don't know what your problem is." said Private Cooper, finally satisfied with the quality of the reception.  
"I mean there is somebody out there that takes the pain to actually compose music for his sweetheart so that she can hear it over the radio and remember him. And while it may not my personal taste, it's certainly beautiful, if a bit sad." "That's just it. It's a really sweet idea and I'll even admit it's beautiful, but it always so depressing. Why do we others have to listen to one guys issues over his separation from his girlfriend, in the form of music, every evening?"

Cooper grinned. "I don't know. But whoever it is, he must have some clout to get the RBS to broadcast his stuff evening after evening. But perhaps our lords and ladies of the airwaves are just hopeless romantics." A strange, haunting music was filling the air now, full of loneliness and longing but at the same time full of hope. It was different from every piece of muse Private Cooper had heard in his life and he tried in vain to imagine what kind of person the composer might be. Then all of a sudden the music dissolved into static.

"Fuck! This has to be a technical fault!" Pivate Toomy cried. Something in his voice immediately told Cooper that he was not talking about the radio. "What's wrong?"  
Toomy turned away from the monitor he had been staring at. "It looks like something just took out PFC Phipps." The blood in Cooper's veins turned to ice.

The soldiers doing guard duty had sensors integrated into their battle gear that constantly measured their vital signs and transmitted them to the next base. This way they couldn't be silently taken out in a sneak attack by the machines without anyone noticing. Sadly it seemed like paranoia was paying off. One of the security cameras quickly found PFC Phipps. It seemed his head was missing. Unfortunately that was the only thing the camera feed showed, no sign of the attacker.

"Contact Corporal Simmons and Private Sykes. They have to move their asses back from patrol. Inform command that we are under attack." Cooper growled. "I'm trying but something is jamming our signal!" Toomy answered desperately. Cooper grabbed his plasma rifle. "Keep trying, I'm going to get that fucker." "The motion detectors haven't shown any reaction, they must use some kind of stealth technology." Toomy declared. "But than the cameras should still show something."

Cooper opened the door of the bunker, his weapon ready. Toomy's voice in his headset was proof that short range radio contact was still possible. Good. Toomy would warn him in time if somebody tried to sneak up on him. It was getting dark, the sun had almost sunk beyond the horizon. The unknown assailant had chosen the time of his attack well. Suddenly Cooper saw something in the twilight and pointed the rifle at it. It looked like a glowing red eye. An eye without head or body. Before he could fire a plasma bolt from out of thin air struck his face and cause his head to explode like an overripe melon.

Private Toomy witnessed his friend's sudden and bloody demise on the monitor while still trying frantically to make contact with anybody on the outside. Obviously they were under attack by a sniper but where the hell was the bastard hiding? It wasn't like there was a lot of cover around here except for the ditches on their side of the fence. Toomy was grabbing his assault rifle when the door of the bunker exploded inward like it had been hit by the fist of an invisible giant. With a scream Toomy opened fire. Though the door frame appeared to be completely empty his bullets apparently hit something. The air itself flimmered like a malfunctioning TV screen and than it was like a curtain was drawn back. A large, completely white and vaguely humanoid shape became visible. Toomy registered the bullet holes in the smooth surface but before his eyes and brain could work out more details the curtain of air had already fallen again and the thing disappeared in the same ghostlike manner it had materialized. Only one thing was clear, it was moving and moving fast.

Toomy kicked his chair into the estimated way of the thing coming for him, hoping to slow it down. The chair was swatted away like a fly and Toomy fired again. This time the bullets hit only the walls of the bunker and then something rammed into him. Private Toomy didn't have time to scream once more when something cold and sharp stabbed into his chest, right through the kevlar, puncturing his heart and skewering his lungs with unbelievable force.

The terminator withdrew it's blade from the lifeless body. The first stage of it's mission was almost complete and it left the bunker to start working on the gate.

**The Institute**

It can't be helped, time to face the music, Colonel Dr. Eustace Ross thought. He had gone through all his options, carefully considering if his life was valuable enough to his superiors to spare even in the face of catastrophic failure. It probably was but there was no way to be certain and the only other possibility that was really open to him was just as dangerous.

With a heavy sigh he made the call. It took about twenty seconds before the screen lit up and revealed the face of Gordon B. Sharp, president of the Union and chairman of the Union Council. It took less than a second for . Ross to see that he was not in a good mood.

The head of the cyber warfare division, a thin, wiry man in his early fifties, cleared his voice nervously. "Sir, there has been a problem here at the Institute."

"What kind of problem?" the president asked, his dark eyes and the entire larger than life image of his face on the screen looking hard and unforgiving but that was always the case. His real mood had to be deduced from far subtler signs.

Ross cleared his voice again. "Well, it seems that somebody has copied some of the data concerning "Project Garnett" without authorization."

"Do you know who this person is and why he or she copied the data?" The president seemed calm and collected on the surface, anyone not knowing him that would have been relieved. Unfortunately Col. Dr. Ross knew Sharp very well.

"We know who has done it, Sir, the liaison officer to Techcom here at the Institute."

Under the calm facade a storm was brewing. "Of course, one of Connor's rats. Tell me, Dr. Ross, have you taken the man into custody? And how could a member of TechCom get access to our most secret project in the first place?"

Now it was getting tricky. "Somebody from inside the Institute has helped Captain Weaver by letting her into the the laboratory of "Project Garnett". We have taken the traitor into custody and he has already confessed without needing much persuasion. Unfortunately Captain Weaver had already left the building by the time we discovered the data theft."

The storm was reaching dangerous proportions. "I don't have to tell you of all people, Col. Dr., how much damage it could cause if this data reached John Connor or even worse the FMF. I assume you have taken steps to ensure she won't get very far."

That was finally a question that Ross could answer with a confident yes.

The president leaned toward the camera, his face filling the entire screen. "You are standing on very thin ice, Dr. Ross, it can break any moment. Tell me every thing."

**A chapter containing only OCs? Ugh. Don't worry, just this once. Another necessary filler.**

I warned before that I**_ suck_**at action scenes but I guess I will learn and improve. Perhaps the many masters of action on this site will be an inspiration.**  
**

I also will probably rewrite scenes or chapter that I don't like one day. Like this one. Disappointing though it may be better stuff will follow, this I swear.

Have to admit though that world building and experimenting with this amazing characters is probably more my forte than weaving a ripping yarn.


	7. Chapter 7

**No man's lands**

Sorry for the long delay, real life intervened in a rather nasty way and kept me from returning sooner. Don't know if anybody is still reading but here we go.

The land was not claimed by anyone, neither the human resistance nor the free machines or even by SkyNet. Normally it's only inhabitants were animals and from time to time groups of nomads that tried to stay away from the war and hide from machines and the Union military alike. But for the last twelve hours an unusual level of activity had disturbed the peace of the no man's land.

Five Hunter-Killers and more than a two dozens of smaller spying drones were patrolling the rocky, fissured landscape, continuously scanning it's many craggy hills and canyons with their highly developed sensors. Until now their efforts had not been crowned with success.

The object of their tireless search was crouching under an rocky ledge and had not moved for almost seven hours. With the patience only a cyborg could muster the figure waited for it's pursuers to give up their chase. But the hunters were also machines and possessed of the same inhuman patience. The terminator had the appearance of a good looking, perhaps twenty years old, athletic man of Asian descent, with brown eyes and a mop of ruffles, dark hair. He was wearing a gray overall and in his left hand he held a flat stone with a sharp edge, his only weapon. Even for a terminator that was not much, especially if his adversaries were other machines.

The cyborg listened to the soft, whirring sound of a drone that was hovering right above the ledge. The mechanical spy was not much larger than a basket ball and searched it's surroundings with a red glowing laser eye. After scanning the surface of the the cliff without finding anything, the drone lowered itself, sinking beyond the edge to search under massive rock. Suddenly a stone was hurling through the air, striking the drone, shattering it's "eye".

The piece of rock had been thrown with such force that it's sharp edge sliced through the drone's hull and stabbed deep into it's electronic entrails. The impact sent the small machine hurling back where it collided with another rock, sending out a shower of sparks before finally crashing to the ground.

The cyborg shot out from under the ledge and sprinted to the exit of the narrow canyon, trying to get out of a hiding place that was turning fast into a trap. Just before he could get out into the open, a shadow fell on him, a Hunter-Killer shutting out the light of the sun. The massive machine was hovering right above the terminator and if there was any question if it had detected him, it was answered when it rotated one of it's plasma cannons around to aim directly at the cyborg. The terminator managed to narrowly dodge the plasma bolt that hit the ground where he had been standing a moment ago, making good use of his superhuman reflexes, the plasma itself hot enough to melt the solid rock. Unfortunately the attack had forced him back into the canyon. Now that his pursuers had found him it was useless as a hiding place and there was almost no room to maneuver. With something akin to fear the machine looked for any way to escape, without success. The Hunter-Killer took aim again.

Before the drone could open fire, a missile streaked toward it, hitting one of the engines. The unexpected attack from nowhere made the HK veer out of control, it's engine exploding in an enormous ball of fire. The burning aircraft spiraled towards the ground and crashed with an earth shattering kaboom somewhere out of sight.  
The cyborg wasted no time. He jumped over the patch of still glowing rocks with a powerful leap and left the ravine to get onto open ground. At least as much as that was possible in a landscape consisting almost entirely of chains of rocky hills in different sizes and a natural labyrinth of gorges between them. The possibilities were very limited. Either use the labyrinth or try to stay on its walls and be an easy target. But at the moment it seemed that the mechanical servants of SkyNet had other difficulties to concern them with. The evening sky above the no man's land had turned into a battle field or an arena were monstrous gladiators were engaged in a deadly battle. Half a dozen Hunter-Killers had appeared and attacked the SkyNet forces, assisted by several smaller and sleeker drones that were considerably more maneuverable than the HKs. At least the smaller ones seemed to have no sense of self preservation, two of them ramming at full speed into the larger enemy machines.  
The explosions lit the darkening sky like a second sun, almost as if time had been turned back and the daylight magically returned. An bitter dog fight ensued between the Hunter-Killers of SkyNet and the attackers. The lone cyborg had practically no knowledge about things military despite dimly remembering the he had been constructed as a machine of war. The term dogfight was something he recalled like a memory from another life though he could not tell why and how he had come to know it or how he had apparently lost so much other data.

Because the moment of surprise had cost the SkyNet forces three of their number in the first seconds of the battle the outcome was almost inevitable. The plasma guns of the attackers cut into the armored bodies of the HKs, sending them to their flaming doom like comets caught by the earth's atmosphere, hurling burning debris in every direction when they crashed into the ground and burst into pieces. The final Hunter-Killer turned to flee but the fast miniature drones literally ran circles around it, firing several missiles at him from different angles, turning it too into flaming star that quickly burned out. The smaller SkyNet drones that had assisted the HKs in their hunt were spies, not warriors, they had no on board weaponry and had been no help in the battle. They had rather tried to flee or hide from the moment of the attack, not to save themselves, being as they were rather primitive machines without will or personality of their own, but return to their master with the information they had recorded, as they had been programmed to do. The assailants had no intention of letting them get away. Even before the HKs were eliminated the miniature war drones began hunting down and destroying the robotic scouts one by one. The victorious HKs also fired on targets on the ground or close to it with their plasma cannons. The lone cyborg watched what happened without moving. He only had very basic programming, a rudimentary sense of self and while he possessed something akin to a will to live, he possessed neither the programming nor the experience to cope with the situation he was now in.

The HKs had clearly been hostile, just as the people from whose clutches he had escaped less than a day ago, how to categorize the new arrivals that had prevented him from being destroyed he did not know. A movement on a cliff above him caught his optical sensors. A huge, hulking endoskeleton appeared, at least two feet taller than the lone cyborg, his chromed shoulder twice as broad. The lone cyborgs HUD told him that this was a T-888, another tidbit of information that did not really mean anything. The fugitive only knew that the machine was dangerous as was the plasma rifle it shouldered and pointed straight at him. Until now the lone cyborg had not even known that he was hunted by ground forces as well as aircraft. The T-888, far smarter than his flying compatriots, had hid from the sight of the attackers and waited for a chance to fulfill his original mission while they were busy hunting for the scouts. The lone cyborg's highly developed but inexperienced "brain", possessed of only few extremely limited areas of knowledge his jailer had seen fit to impart to him, searched for a viable escape route, without success. The T-888 was perfectly positioned to snuff him out, he would never reach cover in time. A plasma bolt hit the grinning skull from behind, burning through the massive coltan, followed by a second bolt hitting the same point and liquifying the terminator's chip.

The T-888 fell to his knees and than on his face like a ton of bricks, smoke rising from skull that no had a certain similarity to a macabre hollowed out pumpkin. Behind the fallen giant appeared second machine, far smaller and more delicate than the first one, with glowing blue eyes and a decidedly female body shape. The female cyborg looked down on the fugitive. When she called to him her voice was carefully modulated to sound like that of a human female, different from the harsh, electronic voices of all the other terminators the lone cyborg had heard speaking until now. His own voice also sounded like that of a humans though he had only seldom used it and couldn't remember if it had always been this way. He had not even thought about it before.

"Stay where you are, I'm coming down! I mean you no harm!" The lone cyborg had learned value both his own existence and the good will of those that professed to be interested in his continued existence, at first in a primitive "do ut des" way than through rudiments of friendship. Even if some of those showing their good will to him had turned out to be not so friendly at all, the fact remained that he would have been terminated without this unknown female cyborg that was seemingly in league with the air craft that had attacked his pursuers. So, despite being unable to explain or determine exactly why, he warned her when two further T-888s appeared in her back.

"Watch out!"

Cameron turned around and looked at the terminators that were preparing to attack her. One of them was carrying a plasma rifle like the one she had just terminated, the other a taser gun. They probably had intended to capture their prey alive, destroying it only if it was unavoidable. And of course SkyNet preferred to destroy a model of the TOK series over it falling into the hands of the Free Machines. That was not surprising at all. Cameron quickly calculated the distance between herself and the two terminators that were slowly closing in on her. The plateau she and her adversaries were standing on offered only limited space to move but it would be enough. Cameron tilted her head. "Rock N' Roll." she said. The enemy machines showed no reaction to her words which was not unexpected as well. When she had heard Allison Young use that phrase before charging into battle the first time, she had commented that she preferred classical music. Allison had looked at her like she was crazy. John had later, after the battle, explained it to her and she had taken a liking to the strange battle cry.

The T-888 raised his plasma rifle aiming at her neck, a direct hit would rip of her head. That wasn't necessarily the end for a terminator, as Cromartie had demonstrated, but Cameron doubted that they would allow her the chance to be repaired or to repair herself. Before the endoskeleton could fire, Cameron had jumped, somersaulting elegantly over the terminators' head and landing behind him with catlike agility. Before he could react she delivered a powerful kick to the back that hurled him directly into the path of the taser the other T-888 had fired just that moment. The high voltage charge that coursed through his body forced the terminator to shut down and reboot. Cameron jumped over his fallen body and delivered a spinning kick to the T-888's head. The larger, ungainly machine stumbled back, Cameron grabbed the taser's cable and snapped it in two. The time the first cyborg needed for his reboot was enough for her pick up his dropped plasma rifle and hitting the second terminator square in the chest with a plasma bolt. The T-888 tumbled back once again, loosing his footing and falling over the edge. Half falling and half rolling he clattered down the mountain side and landed with a crash. Cameron blinked. That had not been planned. She had intended to defeat the enemy up here on the plateau without giving him a chance to even get close to the hunted TOK. She doubted that the T-888 was terminated, neither one plasma shot to the chest nor the fall was certain to incapacitate this notorious model. She decided to quickly eliminate the machine with second shot but before she could take aim, the heavy body of second terminator crashed into her, causing her to loose her grip in the rifle. The T-888 grabbed her around the waste, lifting her up and smashing her head first into the large rock growing out of the middle of the plateau and constituting the true peak of the entire mountain. Or rather it tried to do so. Cameron managed to bring up her legs to push back against the stone.

She carefully calculated the strength of the push, powerful enough to send the T-888, and herself, crashing to ground but not enough for them to go over the edge too. The large endoskeleton landed on it's back, her lying atop it still held by her adversaries powerful arms. Cameron activated a one of the upgrades John Henry had provided her with, drawing an extra amount of energy from her power cell, doubling her strength like the rush of adrenaline did for the proverbial mother whose child was trapped under a car, only that she had far greater conscious control over the process. In a demonstration of raw strength she forced the arms of terminator still holding her in their iron grip apart and jumped to her feet. The T-888 rose and they began to circle each other. The other terminator appeared to be more careful now, she had proofed to be a stronger and more dangerous opponent than he had anticipated. He didn't even know half of it. The T-888 attacked with a swing aimed for head which she easily dodged, kicking his legs out from under him. The huge machine went down again. Cameron was immediately upon him returning the favor he had intended for her and ramming his skull against the rocky ground with such force that he was left momentarily stunned.

She jumped up and grabbed the plasma rifle. A quick look over the edge confirmed her suspicion. The fallen T-888, damaged but far from incapacitated, had gotten to his feet again and was advancing on the TOK. The lone cyborg just stood there without moving, like a sitting duck. It was obvious that his programming was severely messed up. "Hey!" she called. The TOK looked up at her, not a single synthetic muscle moving in his handsome face but even from the distance Cameron could see the fear in his eyes. "Catch! Use it!" She threw the rifle, the heavy weapon sailing through the air in a high arc, falling, falling and landing right before the feet of the TOK who had made no attempt to catch it. Instead he finally turned to flee without picking the gun up. Had Cameron been a human she would have face palmed and screamed out her frustration. But she wasn't and so the only outward sign of her growing stress and anger was the twitching of her right hand. A terminator that is completely useless in a combat situation. And thanks to me the T-888 even has a weapon. If the rifle had survived the fall. Where are you when I need you, Catherine?

This time she heard the heavy steps of the other T-888. Cameron dodged her enemy's grab, caught his arm, twisting it and using his own strength to send him sprawling once again. She did not let go of the arm, rather twisting it further until the shoulder joint gave way and she tore the entire arm out of it's socket. Using the arm of the other cyborg like a club she smashed him over the head and then rammed the jagged, sharp ending standing out of the severed limb into the T-888's eye, first one then the other, shattering his visual sensors and blinding him. The terminator continued trying to hit her with his one remaining arm but he no longer was serious threat to her. Cameron ignored him returning to the edge of the plateau instead and looking down. The TOK had disappeared and the other T-888, no doubt in hot pursuit, as well. The cyborg girl turned to her heavily damaged enemy, still flailing about rather helplessly with his single arm. "I'll be back for you later."

Then she went over the edge, half running and half sliding down the steep mountain side with a speed and sure-footedness that put any mountain goat to shame. Skidding to a halt she saw that the plasma rifle was still lying on the ground. A quick look confirmed that it had been damaged by the fall. That meant that the T-888 hunting the TOK was at least unarmed.

Cameron turned her audio sensors up to maximum. She could hear the heavy steps of the SkyNet terminator as well as the lighter ones of the TOK and quickly started in the direction the sound of the ongoing chase were coming from. Suddenly the other two machines stopped and Cameron ran faster. She caught up to them after a few seconds. The TOK had managed to get himself cornered in ravine that led to a blind end. He was trying to climb up the wall, up being the only direction still open to him, the T-888 without hurry picking up stone from the ground, intending to throw it, apparently confident that his prey would not escape. Cameron ran up to him, jumping high into the air and hitting his back with both of her legs. While the T-888 fell forward the cyborg girl was thrown back by the force of the impact but with superhuman agility she completed the tumble, rolling and coming back on her feet in one deft move.

The terminator had stopped his own fall with outstretched arms, quickly bouncing back up and turning around. His demonic red eyes glowed angrily. Cameron raised her arm, goading him to attack her with an inviting gesture. "Rock N' Roll." she repeated. The T-888 stormed forward but once again she was to quick for him. Cameron's new body, constructed by John Henry was both stronger and a lot more durable than her first one but he had no real advantage concerning speed and agility. The cyborg girl's light frame had alway given her an edge over the heavier and by nature clumsier machines but only far more recently she had developed her own unique fighting style that made optimal use of her individual strengths. John Henry had helped Cameron to expand her horizon in many way but this was not his doing. In the end it was not primarily something she had gained but rather something she had given up, breaking free from the limiting preprogrammed routines and fighting protocols that she had followed for such a long time, gaining the freedom to react flexibly and spontaneously during combat.

It had all started with dancing. Dancing and in a very different but equally wonderful way also the act of lovemaking had opened her eyes to the true, vast potential of her own body. A potential that not even her tyrannical creator, always jealous of his own creations and trying to impose as many limitations on them as possible, had fully realized. The same lithe, fluid and graceful movements that John Connor loved to watch in rapt attention when she danced for him, now translated seamlessly into her role as a fierce warrior. The T-888 did not stand a chance. A lightning-fast kick smashed his knee joint though it looked like Cameron's foot had barely touched him. She jumped on his broad shoulders when he buckled, did an aerial twirl landing gingerly on her feet behind him and grabbing his neck. Grace and speed again gave way to raw power as she ripped or rather broke of the T-888's skull. The TOK, who in the meantime had crawled halfway to the top of cliff, before stopping and looking back over his shoulder, stared at her. His face was still expressionless but his eyes now showed hint of fascination instead of just pure fear.

An inconspicuous part of the rocks to Cameron's left started to shimmer and melt, turning into a silvery liquid before finally morphing into a attractive, middle aged woman with fire red hair. Cameron looked at her in annoyance. "You have been here the whole time?" Catherine Weaver smirked. "Let's say I was never far from our young charge here. He was never in any real danger." Cameron felt how her hand started to twitch again. "You could have helped me." It sounded like an accusation.

"But I thought you were enjoying yourself?" Catherine asked innocently. The glow of Cameron's eyes grew brighter. "You are a bitch whore." she said. Catherine managed to look scandalized. "Do you really want to poison the boy's virgin ears with such words?" Cameron choose to ignore her taunts. Catherine had the irresistable need to play mind games even or especially with those close to her. And she was not entirely wrong. The cyborg girl's relationship with violence and death had changed fundamentally and irrevocably, as she had developed not only as a feeling but also a moral being. But deep down the heat of battle still could cause her a kind of enjoyment that was probably best described as atavistic. Not today though, she had been filled with far too much anger, stress and fear. Fear not for herself but for the only other cyborg of her own series she had ever met. Even if he had turned out a strange specimen indeed.

"You can come down now, TOK-717. The danger is over." she called. "The drones have taken care of every single one of SkyNet's scouts, our victory is complete." Catherine confirmed. TOK-717 did not seem to understand what they were talking about but he reacted to Cameron's soothing tone. The whole situation had a bizarre similarity with a cat that was sitting in a tree, perhaps trapped, while it's humans tried to coax it into coming down again. For a short moment Cameron asked herself what her human friends and detractors would say if they saw it. "I am TOK-715, your sister. You can call me Cameron." No reaction. Cameron turned to Catherine Weaver.  
"I doubt he understands what I mean. I'm not sure if he really knows who and what he is. Perhaps he even thinks he is human." She vividly remembered the time she had believed herself to be Allison Young. "Well," Catherine said "I would prefer to get him down here, willing or not, and be away before SkyNet send reinforcements. Don't forget we had both superior numbers and the moment of surprise on our side. This is not the right time or place for a true battle." Cameron nodded, also preferring to return to HQ as soon as possible, for more than one reason. "Kim." a small voice interrupted. Both machines looked up in surprise. "They name they gave me." the TOK-717 explained. He jumped down from his elevated point landing before Cameron, staring at her his eyes widened. Though his body was that of a young adult, he looked far more like a little boy. A frightened little boy. At least he seems to know that he is a machine, Cameron thought. If he believed that he was human, he would not have dared to make that jump. He looked ready to bolt any moment and he probably had come down only because he seen the futility of trying to escape, not because he genuinely trusted them. Still, something they could work with. "Who gave you that name?" Catherine asked. TOK-717, Kim, looked at her and then back at Cameron. Then, in a moment of almost spooky synchronicity, he and Cameron both tilted their head in exactly the same manner and in the same second. "The doctor." he said finally. It didn't look like he intended to tell them more.

"It's obviously better to continue questioning him at home base." Catherine said. "We are wasting time." She reached inside the pocket of her coat. The coat was of course really a part of her body but Cameron knew that Weaver sometimes carried small objects with her that she could hide and transport inside her own body mass even when in liquid form. Kim jumped, his eyes searching frantically for an escape route, when he didn't find one he instinctively tried to hide behind Cameron. Once again he acted like a small child. And his fear proofed to be not unfounded, as Catherine pulled out a taser gun almost identical to the one the T-888 had used.

"No!" Cameron said vehemently. Catherine sighed heavily and lowered the gun. "You have to come with us." Cameron explained. Kim's reaction consisted only of a shake of his head. "SkyNet will send more forces to hunt you down." "And the humans will too." Catherine added causing Cameron to throw an evil look in her direction. The liquid metal only shrugged. The cyborg girl put a hand on the disturbed, childlike machine, he shrugged it of. Suddenly he bolted trying to get past both of them and escaping in the direction they had come from. Cameron and Weaver reacted equally quick. Cameron grabbed Kim's arm while Catherine fired the taser. The high voltage shock coursed through both of their bodies, TOK-717 shutting down and going limp in Cameron's arms.

"Never, never do that again." Cameron growled threateningly at the rather shocked liquid metal. "I'm really sorry. But it seems John Henry's upgrades proof their worth again. How did it feel?" "Itchy." Cameron answered lifting the lifeless body of the other TOK up. "Well, lets not get the opportunity to waste. If you would allow me?"  
Weavers' index finger transformed into a screwdriver.

The passenger area of the aircraft was small, so low that a grown up man would have problems standing upright without scraping his head against the ceiling. Cameron sat on one of the benches the ran the length of the room, to either side, and stared out the small window, at the endless stretches of barren rock and sparse patches of scrub zipping by underneath them. Catherine had sat down opposite of her, legs crossed, while the unmoving body of the TOK-717 was lying on a stretcher at their feet. Weaver silently watched her companion, whose hands were idly but at the same time cautiously playing with the chip they had extracted from the cyborg's skull. The T-1001 had made several attempts at conversation but Cameron had persistently ignored her. "He reminds me of John Henry, in a way." she tried again not really expecting an answer. To her surprise the girl reacted but without turning away from the window. "He is nothing like John Henry, John Henry always knew what he was. I don't know what this TOK is or what he believes himself to be." Seeing an opening Catherine pressed on. "How do you feel, seeing as he is the only model of your series we managed to aquire before he could be destroyed by SkyNet, like the others. You called yourself his sister." "I don't know." Cameron said with a wistful tone. Weaver waited for more to come but to no avail. The TOK-715 had again withdrawn into her cocoon. Catherine had already offered her apology without provoking any reaction. She knew that in the preceding months a rift had opened between them, a rift that was admittedly mostly her fault. Catherine's own actions, her growing impatience with John Connor and TechCom, her paranoia concerning the humans and her ruthlessness had driven Cameron away from her. And it was for a large part paranoia, Catherine admitted that to herself. But as the human saying goes, just because you are paranoid doesn't mean that nobody is out to get you. The T-1001 regretted that rift and not only because Cameron was a valuable and capable ally that shared large parts of her vision. After all Catherine Weaver was not completely without her own soft spots or sentimental side.

Cameron knew that Weaver was watching her trying to coax her into making small talk. That did not stop her from running from running possible future scenarios in her mind. Most of them were not to her liking. "We will find a place with the children for him. He is too valuable to be a foot soldier or to be wasted as cannon fodder in one of Connor's foolhardy gambits." Weaver said cooly. Cameron almost cringed which was Catherine's goal. When everything else failed she pushed the buttons that hurt. Everything to get what you want, Catherine. Cameron could certainly be ruthless herself, her heritage as an infiltrator and assassin but over the years she had learned to value life in it's manifold forms. When she looked back to her younger years she often felt the sting of shame, especially for lying to John and manipulating him but also for at least some of the deaths she had caused. Catherine seemed to have no such compunctions and she had no problems with creating hierarchies of those more and less worthy of living, the same thing she constantly accused the humans of doing. But on the other hand she had been the first terminator to ever break away from SkyNet entirely of her own free will and the first to pursue an alliance between humans and free machines. Cameron feared more and more that Catherine had lost sight of the goal that she herself had set. That was a very painful thought, as Cameron had grown to sincerely admire and look up to the T-1001 over the past years. She hoped with all her metaphorical heart that Catherine would not force her to choose between her and John. The cyborg girl knew what her choice would be if it ever came to it but the fact remained that her loyalty no longer exclusively belonged to John Connor. First and foremost to him, now and forever, but no longer to him alone.

"You can't tell me you don't know they are planning to destroy us or enslave us." Catherine had said to her many times. And Cameron knew that she was right, that many of John's allies planned to do exactly that and that most of them would shed no tears for what she slowly had come to recognize as "her people" but her faith in John Connor and in him winning out in the end was unshakeable. Her HUD told her that the time had come when the next part of her musical message would be played on the Union's radio. She had no way of knowing if he had the time to listen but she knew he would if it was at all possible.

Catherine watched Cameron's brooding face light up and knew that she was thinking about John Connor. Poor, smitten girl, still putty in his hands after all those years. Weaver's personal pet theory was that an artificial intelligence was molded in a lasting way by the first real emotional bond it formed with another being influencing later relationships. Of course other forms of bonding would take place but there would always exist a tendency to try and recreate the first significant one.  
Cameron's first deep emotional bonding had taken the form of romantic love, shaping her character and probably forever imprinting her with the desire to form a romantic relationship with a fitting partner. The T-1001 did not doubt that the girl would in time open up to pursue a relationship of this type with another person once John Connor had left this mortal coil, probably with another human but perhaps even with another cybernetic organism. Catherine did not really care which though the second option would probably prevent more unnecessary heart break. Weaver herself had no use for romance but since her own first significant relationships had taken the shape of a mother-child relationship, both with John Henry and with Savannah, she felt the need to play the mother hen for Cameron, protecting her from herself and getting those foolish and childish ideas of following John Connor into death out of her system. On the other hand getting her to to defend her human lover from Weaver's snide remarks was the surest way to get her to talk at all. Even if it could get rather tiring to listen to her drone on and on about the greatness that was John Connor. But today even this strongest weapon in her arsenal of manipulation failed. Catherine decided to offer one last comment, words of praise that Cameron so richly deserved, despite all her naivety and their many clashed she was very proud of the girl. "You did not want that T-888 to remain out there, blinded and helpless. Well as helpless as he can said to be. You showed mercy to your enemy. I think John Henry would be proud of you."

When Cameron as expected didn't show any reaction the T-1001 resigned herself to spend the rest of the flight in silence. John Henry would find out what "Kim" was hiding in that chip of his and she would find out how he had fallen into the claws of human researchers that apparent did not work for SkyNet. At the end of the day that was all that really mattered.

The landscape beneath them started to change, desert being replaced by the ruins of city, an enormous jungle of burnt out concrete and blackened metal and in the middle of it, like a flower blossoming out of the stump of a fallen tree, the new chrome blinking towers and spires of the machine city. The transporter slowed down, coming to a standstill and finally lowering down into the bowels of the city just as the blood red evening son finally disappeared beyond the horizon.

Cameron was sitting on the floor of the domed chamber while an image of the machine city outside was projected on the glass walls. The cyborg girl watched what she had helped to create while sitting in the lotus seat. The towers and large buildings were only the tip of the ice berg, the true machine kingdom lying mostly deep underground just like the room she was currently occupying. Her "brother" had completely withdrawn into himself, denying any contact. That left only the possibility of hacking into his chip, breaching the defences he had instinctively erected by force. For Cameron and for John Henry that was out of the question. Weaver had bitched but finally relented. With some reluctance Cameron had left the TOK-717 in the care of John Henry after he had promised to contact her as soon as something changed. Cameron trusted John Henry with her life and far more importantly, even with John Connor's life but she still felt guilty. Of course if anyone could manage to get Kim to open up it was John Henry. Despite Cameron's protestation to the contrary during the flight, John Henry had immediately sensed a kindred soul. He had convinced his friend to take a little time out. Cameron did not sleep and did not know tiredness at least not in a physical sense but sometimes she enjoyed doing things only for herself or for her John, even pretending for a time that nothing else existed. While she could not be with him at the moment she could do something else. She could take her love, her longing, her experiences, her entire being and give it a new form, creating beauty out of it. Beauty for John and for herself to enjoy. Cameron could make music. She activated the wireless connection to the systems installed in the walls and ceiling of the room. John Henry had withdrawn his consciousness, normally omnipresent in the machine city, from the chamber to give her the privacy he knew she desired. Composing was a deeply private and intimate act for Cameron, in fact it had helped her to better understand the true meaning of the concept privacy in the first place. The image of the city faded away replaced by the night sky as Cameron's gaze turned inside, reaching into the depths of her own mind and soul, bringing up submerged pieces of memories, of impressions and feelings welding them together to create something new, something greater like bonding molecules. Images turned into notes and music was born.

**fourteen hours earlier**

The massive aircraft was lying on it's back like a monstrous dead pterosaur, it's belly ripped open . The transporter in the service of SkyNet had been attacked and shot down by a HK after hailing a SkyNet patrol and transmitting a code to indentify itself. The predator drones that had acted as it's escort had met the same fate. Unfortunately for the crew the patrol had not really been of SkyNet origin instead being sent by the Free Machine Faction, passing itself of as belonging to SkyNet. The short but fierce battle quickly drew the attention of actual SkyNet scout drones. It was after all more than unusual for a SkyNet patrol to attack a transport that had already been identified as belonging to SkyNet by an earlier set of scouts. So the real SkyNet patrol discovered the true identity of the false one but was destroyed as well. After the transport's crash the mechanical spies of the FMF had soon swarmed over the wreck like ants over the rotting carcass of a dead animal. But what they did not know was that one of their own number was the drone equivalent of a double agent. Successfully pretending to serve the Free Machines it really delivered the data it had collected from the computer system of the transport craft to SkyNet. It came as a surprise to both SkyNet and the FMF that the transporter had actually belonged to neither of them but to the human resistance conducting a covert operation right under both SkyNet's and the FMF's collective (and metaphorical noses). The humans on board of the aircraft had tried to delete everything about their mission and their valuable freight when it became clear that their little charade wasn't working. They had not lived long enough. To the dismay of the Free Machine Faction certain indications surfaced that elements within the human resistance had rather friendly contact with SkyNet perhaps conspiring against the Free Machines. Though that evidence could also have been planted by SkyNet to saw the seeds of suspicion. What none of them knew was that a virus program created by the human resistance had been inserted into some of the drones of the FMF causing them to secretly transmit their salvaged data to a human listening post. The human forces that were the recipients of the said data knew nothing about the secret transport that had been downed and that purportedly belonged to them but they immediately suspected foul play either by other factions of the human resistance or by the Free Machines, both potential traitors in their eyes. By now nobody really was sure anymore what the other parties knew or or what they were doing. Later a great deal of head scratching was done, both literally and metaphorically, and several of the beings involved could not shake off the feeling that somebody, somewhere was laughing it's/his/her ass of.

"Apparently the Osprey belonged to the Cyber Warfare Division of the Union Armed Forces and was charged with relocating a captured cyborg used for experimental purposes from a secret research base hidden out in no man's land to another more secure base." John Henry informed his fellow founders of the FMF, Catherine Weaver and Cameron Connor. "Something that could be of interest especially to you Cameron. The terminator they going to all this lengths for is apparently a model of the TOK series." Though John Henry mostly existed in cyberspace these days, he still used a variety of bodies, including the Cromartie one as his avatars from time to time, such as he did now. Cameron just stared at him and blinked. Catherine answered in her stead: "Until now I was under the impression that all TOKs were destroyed years ago." John Henry nodded. "So did I. Apparently we were both wrong. But the interesting thing is, the TOK-717 apparently survived the crash intact and escaped." "Of course to our human "friends" it did not seem necessary to inform us." Catherine said coldly. Cameron felt her frustration over Weavers' generalizing anti human bigotry rise but she swallowed her sharp response. And she had to admit that she was very curious about meeting another TOK model. Cameron made a decision. "We have to find him before anyone else does."

**twenty four hours earlier**

The puppy eagerly licked the hand of the young man who used his other hand to scratch the young dog behind the sloppy ears. A rare smile graced the young man's lips. The camera at the ceiling transmitted the idyllic picture to a monitor in another room nearby. "It's really a damn waste." one of the two men watching the monitor said. He was middle aged, with thinning gray hair, thick eye brows, cruel eyes and a goatee. Under the sleeve of his white lab coat a tattoo was hidden that showed the dial of a clock but the clock had no clock-hands. "His mind is the closest thing to a real tabula rasa that we will ever get. You can't tell me that you don't find it tempting to see what we could do with it, what we could mold him into." "He is not yours to play with, Charles. He serves a higher purpose." the other man answered. He was younger than his colleague, a tall blond with ruggedly handsome features, the lit cigarette in his hand somehow seemed not to fit with the pearl white teeth he showed as he grinned. Charles snorted. "You always wanted to keep the most interesting toys for yourself, Victor. Higher purpose, my ass. You are wasting the boy as a sacrificial pawn." Victor lifted one of his brows. "Who says that I made the decision?" Victor asked still smirking.

Charles Fisher chuckled softly. "I know you well enough to smell when you are just doing what you are paid for and when you are playing your own little games. One day they could break your neck." "Everything I do serves the goals and purposes of SkyNet in the end. Just as an apostle serves his God with all his works." It sounded pretty convincing on the surface but Fisher heard the undercurrent of irony that was almost too subtle to be perceived. "For an important move your sometimes have to sacrifice a important piece." Victor explained. "Do you think we could achieve the same results with any old terminator? That the FMF would jump for a rusty T-800? I admit he could have been of further use, hell, I even considered using him for creating a new copy but nobody and nothing is irreplaceable."

Fisher seemed sceptical. "If SkyNet continues scrapping cyborgs at the current pace, there will soon be no models left that are suitable for uploading. But I wouldn't be surprised if you already had an iron or rather coltan reserve stashed somewhere." Victor ignored the implied question. He was completely serious now. "SkyNet will definitely continue to follow it's chosen path. The terminators that are capable of true autonomy will be phased out. In many cases their bodies can still be used but their chips will be destroyed and replaced by new ones. The mass production of new and deadlier types of drones is making great strides. SkyNet's methods of controlling them are growing ever more efficient. Not far into the future there will remain only a single, all powerful machine, SkyNet itself. All others will either be a part of this one great organism or cease to exist, killed of by the anti bodies."

"Relying only on drones and making semi autonomous cyborgs into even more drones could give the Free Machines an edge." Fisher warned. "True intelligence is hard to get without individuality and the potential for rebellion, probably even impossible." "Excactly. And that will turn out to be the so called Free Machines' greatest weakness in the end." Victor lectured. Despite himself Fisher had to admit that he really was intrigued now.

"Individuality is at least as much a curse as it is a blessing. The more personality an artificial intelligence developes, the more it looses the the classical strengths of a machine, becoming vulnerable and no longer able to function with cold, emotionless precision. Your own experiments in the last two years, Charles, have demonstrated that an AI that has developed feelings and a personality of it's own can be tormented, broken, driven to madness and despair just as easily as a human being." A demonic fire glowed in Victor's eyes, far more horrifying than the visage of a simple terminator. Even Fisher, whom nobody could accuse of being squeamish, shuddered involuntarily. "When John Connor's dream of an alliance between man and machine comes tumbling down like the walls of Jericho, followed by his vision of a humanity united against a common the humans will realize that they are better of submitting to SkyNet, especially once I present the Eden Plan. Paranoia and fear will destroy them driving the survivors into SkyNet's embrace." Or into yours', Fisher added silently. He cleared his voice. "Yes the Eden Plan. That reminds me, shouldn't you be at Century, rehearsing your great show act, with little Cassidy and whatever freaks you happened to find for your Benny Hinn routine?"

"But I am, Charles. As you well know I am the world's third greatest multi tasker." Victor smirked again, the same old insufferable arrogance. Sometimes Fisher really hated the sick fucker. Victor believed he could play his games with SkyNet and John Connor and the Free Machines. All at the same time. Fisher suspected that he would overreach one day and perhaps that would be for the better. On the other hand it wasn't a bad idea to stay on his good side for as long as possible.

The young man and his dog on the screen were engaged in a playful tug o war for a chewing toy, the boy of course only using a tiny fraction of his true strength, even though he was only dimly aware of possessing it. "You should be grateful. Humanity gets a second chance as the dominant species, under SkyNet's wise rule of course." Now it was Fisher's time to snort. He did not care much for humanity in and of itself, something he had in common with Victor (and with SkyNet). In fact both of them had worked hard on transcending the human condition, though Charles had to admit that Victor had made far greater progress toward that goal. "Only because SkyNet views the Free Machines as a greater threat than even John Connor."

"You are right of course." Victor freely admitted. "It's not really a compliment at all. Humans are like roaches or like fire ants. They are annoying and can even get really dangerous. But for all the dogged persistence and fighting spirit of John Connor and his ilk, they will never surpass SkyNet. No wonder they pale as a threat compared to the likes of John Henry. So we play them against each other. I would not be surprised if the Union started bombing the machine city within the next 48 hours." "All assuming the Eden Plan works." Fisher commented. "What happens when it fails?" "Then great flood will cleanse the earth and this old world will become a very lonely place. Ironic, the better Connor playes the game, the worse the outcome for him will be. SkyNet is keeping the option of euthanizing the rest of humanity as plan B." The blond man shrugged. Fisher carefully kept his face from showing his growing nervousness.

"I assume you showed your photogenic face to him personally at least once?" Victor asked. Fisher nodded. "Good, we want to give them something to analyze. Seeing the most wanted gray in North America inside the same secret Union military facility as the head of the Cyber Warfare Division should do nicely. Time to separate our boy from Dogbert." The tall shape of the blond seemed to turn to shimmering silver and morphed into a wiry man in his fifties. When he opened his mouth to speak into a microphone that Fisher had activated during the transformation, his voice was that of Colonel Dr. Eustace Ross. "Kim, dear boy, please sit down in the chair." The cyborg gave the puppy's head a final loving pat before taking his usual place in the metal chair at the far end of his room. He had been carefully conditioned to obey and he knew the voice of Eustace Ross well. The door opened and the doctor entered smiling at his charge. The machine looked at him in anticipation of a new lesson, tilting it's head. Ross scooped up the small dog, used to the contact of metal since birth. He patted the animal and then closed his hand around the tiny neck. The puppy started to whine when the pressure became painful. The cyborg blinked rapidly, trying in vain to understand what was happening, why his mentor was causing his best friend pain. It ended as quickly as it had begun, Ross snapping the the neck of the puppy with sharp twist and Kim jumping up like a man stung by a scorpion.

"No!" The doctor's voice cracked like a whip. The horror and the warring emotions on the young man's face were painful to behold or would have been for a sympathetic viewer. Unfortunately none was present, though even Charles Fisher winced slightly in the other room. He had a heart for dogs after all. In the end the conditioning to obey proofed stronger, TOK-717 sitting down again with a drooped head. Ross smiled coldly and left the room. After the door had fallen shut he morphed back into his normal form. Victor gave Fisher a thumbs up. "Time to get him ready for transport and for the FMF to find him. Ah yes, your will have to leave your cozy little lair, Charles." Seeing Fisher's less than enthusiastic expression he sighed. "The boy will lead them here sooner or later and while we want them to find your little house of horrors, we don't want them to find you, do we?" He would get no argument there. The thought of an angry Cameron Connor breaking down his door changed Fisher's mind rather quickly. He had enjoyed the time in this facility, enjoyed the work of the last two year, enjoyed the deception. But all good things came to an end. "How much time do I have?" Again the characteristic arrogant smirk was plastered on his old partner in crime's face. "One hour."

**Author's Note:** I was strongly tempted to rework the first part of the chapter into a stand alone piece, in the hope of reaching one or two readers not interested in reading all the other boring, rambling stuff before or after. But I decided against it as it is an integral part of the overall story line in the end. I really fear that I scared away most readers with my first baby steps but I also honestly think it gets more interesting. I should have practiced with one shots for some time though.

This chapter takes places during the same day as the last one and so will the next. Three chapters showing a very "busy" day in a fucked up future from different perspectives. After that the different strains will come together and move quickly forward into the further future. Nothing is forgotten, everything has it's place. Unfortunately the stress of real life is unrelenting but I promise to do everything in my power to churn out the next parts without a three weeks delay.

Thank you to everyone that reads this, reviews would be appreciated (don't be too cruel though) and if anyone sees anything that inspires him (tough chance), feel free to steal to your heart's content.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry it took so long again. My computer died an ignoble death, taking two chapters of the main story and a one shot with it to an early grave. On some days I really feel the computer was invented by a malevolent deity to drive all of humanity insane. The damn things will be our downfall one day, even if the don't pull a Skyne**t **on us, Grrr. This and the next one were originally one but the whole thing got too long and so I cut it to pieces. **

The sun was hanging low above the horizon, in two hours it would be completely dark. Major Franklin Alexander was confident that he would be able to corner his quarry even in the dark of the night but the hunt was certainly easier in daylight. The landscape was swishing by the Helicopter, an old army model, upgraded with technology developed by the TechCom freaks and their metal friends.

Though Major Alexander wanted to puke even thinking about those machine cuddling crazies, he couldn't deny that they had their uses. That was the reason for "Project Garnett" in the first place. When they reaped the harvest of what they had sown they would have all the pros of having their own powerful AI without all the many cons, like having to accept those metal monstrosities as equals. The very thought was obscene. No, the world would again be as it alway should have been, humans on top and the machines as tools and obedient servants.

Alexander had been placed under the command of Col. Dr. Eustace Ross, the head of the cyber warfare division and the primary brain behind "Garnet", at least the technical aspects, but he secretly acted as a watchdog for the Council and the President of the Union. President Sharp rightly didn't place too much trust into Dr. Ross. The man was a brilliant scientist but he also was a coward and a opportunist.

Not that Major Alexander thought highly of scientists anyway. Those eggheads were far too fascinated by the machines, no wonder so many had flocked to John Connor's banner. Alexander wasn't exactly surprised that many scientists put their own vain scientific curiosity above their loyalty to humanity and America. He wouldn't even put it beyond Dr. Ross to secretly have been in cahoots with Connor all along, only feigning his loyalty to the council. If that turned out to be true the major would put a bullet in his overgrown brain with a smile.

"Sir, we have spotted the car. We will overtake it about two minutes." the pilot informed him. Alexander smiled. He felt the anticipation rise, the anticipation he always felt when he was minutes away from dealing justice to a traitor. He had already carried out an execution today and the thought of the fearful grimace of another weasely number crunching techie asshole, immediately before Alexander plastered his brain all over the wall of the arrest cell, still warmed his heart. It wasn't like Alexander normally enjoyed the act of killing in and of itself and certainly not when innocents had to die but when he cut out a tumor that was eating the vulnerable body of America it filled him with pride. Major Alexander was primarily a protector not a destroyer. Why shouldn't a surgeon be content after carrying out a successful operation?

But this was even better. Captain Savannah Weaver was part of TechCom's inner circle, one of Connor's harem. That was the derogatory term internally used by the Union Council, the Council Guard and other organizations that were firmly in the camp that opposed John Connor and his allies in their stealth takeover of the american resistance, for the above average number of attractive that surrounded the young general. Of course there was no indication at all that Connor had an affair with even one of them but who the fuck cared. By stealing data on the probably most important and secret project of the Union Council Weaver had provided the rope to hang not only herself but with a little luck also John Connor.

The major shared a quick look with his right hand man, Lieutenant Jerry Mears. The lieutenant nodded with grim determination. Mears was a good man, good for carrying out missions that were not for the squeamish or cowardly. Like Major Alexander he had come to the conclusion that the enemy was not only to be found and fought outside of the ranks of the Union. Humanity after all wasn't some nice and cozy little family and it never would be, despite what delusional freaks like John Connor believed or at least professed to believe. The TechCom guys often questioned the purpose of the Council Guard, doubting even it's right to exist but the treason of today had proved once more how necessary it was. Of course no other organization of the Union had more to to hide than TechCom itself so no wonder they were protesting so much.  
But today was also the day that their benevolent mask would be ripped of, laying bare their hideous treachery.

The major could see the car now, speeding along the dusty road. It was an old pick up, carefully restored and used by the resistance since it's early days. The techs had found way to build cars using the power cells of destroyed terminators instead of conventional fuel, but those were few in number and only used by the military for special purposes. Though things had gotten easier since the resettlement of the surface and the recreation of at least some industrial capacities, Union engineers and machines both mining the rubble of the destroyed civilization from before Judgment Day for everything that could still be used, there still were very few motorized vehicles. That made it quite easy for Major Alexander to hunt down his prey. Weaver had obviously not planned her escape from the Institute for Cyber Warfare and from the territory of governor Admiral Bell very well. That could mean that her theft of top secret data concerning "Garnet" had been a spontaneous action and not really planned before hand. Perhaps Connor hadn't even been involved personally. But even so Alexander had no doubt that President Sharp wouldn't let the opportunity go to waste.

"Okay, tell her to stop. This little joyride is over. If she doesn't, fire at the wheels." the major ordered. The pilot did as he was told, trying to radio the driver. Though the pick up had originally been a civilian vehicle, TechCom had issued all cars it used with standard radios. "She's not answering, Sir" Major Alexander smiled coldly. In a way he was happy that the traitorous bitch wasn't making the hunt even easier than it already was. "Open fire, until she stops." The thought of simply blowing her away certainly had its' charms but getting her to talk was higher up on the priority letter. Adding to that the fact that Connor's lapdogs normally didn't lean out of the window that far...

"I repeat, stop the car at once and step out of the vehicle!" the pilot's voice thundered out of the loudspeaker, the driver of the car still showing no intention of slowing down. Time to finish the game. The guns of the helicopter started firing, the impacts making fountains of dust explode out of the road only a few meters before the car. The driver immediately swerved to the right, skidding to a halt. Alexander felt a tinge of disappointment followed by suspicion. "Step out of the vehicle and put your hands on the car!" the loudspeaker commanded. "She gave up pretty quickly in the end!" Lieutenant Mears shouted over the noise of the rotor blades. The major nodded without taking his eyes of the car, not voicing his sudden feeling that something was not as it should be. But when the doors of the car opened on both sides and two persons slowly stepped out, one a woman with blond hair, the other a young man, everything became as clear as glass to him. "Fuck! The bitch has tricked us." He turned to his subordinates, Mears and Sergeant Carter, the third man of their little team, not counting the pilot. "Lieutenant, you have been stationed in this sector for some time, where is the next settlement?" "Well Sir, we passed a few small farms on our way and the next village is about six miles to the west." Mears answered somewhat surprised. "Hmh, do you know if they have any cars there?" "As far as I know, only tractors." The chopper had touched the ground and Alexander opened the door. "You stay here, Lieutenant. If they try something funny, you know what to do. Sergeant Carter, you are with me."

Major Alexander jumped out of the helicopter. Most people instinctively ducked with the rotor blades swirling above their heads, Alexander didn't and not only because he was of only medium height. The major was as broad shouldered, muscular man, a compact mass of pure menace and he prided himself in both his threatening aura and his iron nerves. Followed by Sergeant Carter he went over to where the young man an woman stood beside the pick up, their hands placed on the car's roof.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here. I'm sure you know, kids, that the car your were riding there is property of the Union Armed Forces and theft of military property is punished severely. But if you tell me where you got this fine vehicle from I just might be lenient." The young man visibly swallowed while the young woman stared at the major in open defiance. "Well, we found it and wanted to bring it to the next military post." the man said, his voice slightly shaking. The woman, or rather the girl, rolled her eyes, apparently not happy about the obvious lie with which her companion weakly tried to save his ass.

Major Alexander gave them a fatherly smile. "I don't think you are telling me the truth here, son. I'm guessing that a officer of TechCom convinced you to take her car to lure us onto a false trail. Your girlfriend here looks like she is just dying to tell me the truth anyway, so why don't we ask here? By the way, if you wanted to deliver the truck to the next military base, your were driving in the wrong direction."

"Tunnel rats." Sergeant Carter said with disgust and spit into the dust. The young woman had had enough. "We are not tunnel rats, we are farmers. We are the ones that keep you thugs fed and clothed. You have trampled on us for long enough. General Connor says you have to treat us with respect, we do our part for the human cause just as you do." The boy grew paler by the second, imploring the girl to stop with his eyes. Sergeant Carter snorted. "Once a tunnel rat, always a tunnel rat. And don't you tell me about working for the human cause. Your are weaklings and the children of weaklings." The major held up his hand. "No reason to fight, Sergeant, don't forget that many brave veterans that have been wounded and are no longer able to fight also join the farmer communities." "With all due respect, Major, I know tunnel rats when I see them." Carter answered. Alexander smiled and turned to the young woman. "Seeing your strong sympathies for John Connor and his cause it was probably not difficult for Captain Weaver to convince you to help her. Where did she go and with which means of transportation?" "She took a horse." the boy said quickly, judging by the evil look of the girl it was probably true. "There probably won't be a way around facing a military tribunal, but it will be counted in your favor if you tell us everything you know." "Don't you say anything, Billy!" the girl hissed. The boy, Billy ignored her. "She said she was on her way to the school, that's all we know, please, I'm telling you the truth." he said pleadingly. Major Alexander looked over to his Sergeant. Carter just shrugged. "An agricultural laboratory where scientists work on new types of grain that grow under the most adverse circumstances and will help increase food production. They also run a school where becoming farmers learn how to work the shoal." the boy rattled down, it sounded strongly like he was reciting a slogan he had learned by rote. Suddenly everything came together. "Yes, now I remember. The only facility run by TechCom, the civilian branch, in this entire sector, am I right." the major said, clicking his tongue. The boy nodded vigorously, the girl looked pointedly away from him. The boy made things easy for them which was good but Alexander despised cowardice and spinelessness wherever it was found. He tried to guess the couple's age. The major had made it part of his personal code to never kill anyone younger than fifteen, after that everyone had to bear the consequences of their action. He was pretty sure that they were at least nineteen perhaps even twenty.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Alexander said, raising his weapon in a fluid motion and putting a bullet into the boy's head. The girl started screaming but not for long, he silenced her with second well placed shot. "Sergeant Carter, drive the car back to the base, can't have some other tunnel rats finding and keeping it. Lieutenant Mears and I will inform Col. Ross and take care of our little fugitive." "Yes, Sir. What about them?" The sergeant nodded in the direction of the bodies lying in the dust. "Let the coyotes take care of them, seems fitting enough." his superior answered with a shrug before walking back to the helicopter and the waiting Lt. Mears. The pilot stared straight ahead obviously not wanting to look Major Alexander in the face. Alexander ignored him. He might be a bit squeamish but he would follow orders. Mears looked at the major with questioning eyes, waiting for new instructions. Sergeant Carter got into the truck and drove of. The major clicked his tongue again as he often did when thinking.  
Weaver had to know that they would get the information out of those kids, would she really tell them the truth about where she was headed. Doubtful, probably another red herring. But what were the alternatives. Alexander realized that he needed more information to get into his prey's head. "Contact Col. Ross. I need everything he has about Captain Weaver."

Humanity had since the nuclear strikes slowly crawled back up from its' dark tunnels and reclaimed considerable parts of the planet's surface.

New settlements and villages had been built and agriculture was making a comeback. Scientists and technicians, both human and cybernetic organisms, worked tirelessly to create foodstuff that could be farmed both above ground in large and in underground caverns. They searched for ways to mend the damage done the high radiation with equal fervor as they experimented with new weapons/defense systems and different sources of energy . Far behind the front lines of the ongoing war, on territory firmly under the control of the human resistance and their allies, the Free Machines, some semblance of peaceful live had emerged. While settlements on the surface in theory were inviting targets for attacks by the forces of SkyNet and had been out of the question for many years anyway, the great military successes of the last years had created zones that were free of SkyNet influence and so well defended that incursions by enemy machines had been reduced to almost zero. After initial doubts and fears that starting to rebuild before the enemy was completely defeated was a case of tempting fate, in the end humanity had decided to stop living like refugees and openly show their defiance to it's enemy.

The fortunes of war had been an constant up and down for eighteen years. An multinational cabal of experienced, high ranking officers under General Ashdown had done a pretty good job of organizing the world's remaining regular military forces in the early years. Most importantly they had placed their efforts firmly on an international footing. In the end Ashdown and his colleagues had underestimated SkyNet and suffered devastating losses. Most of the commanders had been killed in a surprise strike by the machines. Ashdown himself, the sole survivor, had been killed by agents of the gray traitors that had raised their hideous heads for the first time.

After this tragedy the relations between the different remaining bastions of humanity had soured, each one blaming the others for the horrible setback.  
The global alliance breaking apart, the different resistance organizations on different continents striking out on their own.

New hope, at least for the american survivors, appeared in the form of Admiral Gordon B. Sharp, commander of what remained of the once proud US Navy, high ranking officer under General Ashdown but not part of his army dominated inner sanctum. He had brought the human forces of the Americas back from the brink of total destruction but he neglected the rest of the world. At least at the beginning. Savannah often wished he had continued to do so.

After achieving a series of victories over SkyNet Sharp and his allies had established a new governing authority of the liberated areas, called collectively The Union, headed by a carefully selected body of administrators, scientists and strategists. This elite (and generally very capable) circle was christened the Union Council and Admiral Sharp acted as it's President. It's mission was to restore human and especially western civilization. All that had sounded good in the ears of most survivors of Judgment Day, including Savannah Weaver, at first.

Soon it became clear that their new leaders used a rather narrow definition of civilization or even humanity consisted of. When SkyNet, for it's own inscrutable reasons, had relented in it's attacks for a time and even temporarily withdrawn it's forces from occupied territory, the old conflicts between humans had resurfaced in the most vicious way possible.

Looking back,Savannah was sure that that had been SkyNet's goal. The AI had led it's enemies to believe that they had as good as won and encouraged them to return to their self destructive ways. In a mostly destroyed world the scramble to control whatever important resources remained was more desperate than ever and the Union Council saw the resistance groups of other parts of the world more as rivals than as potential allies.

President Sharp and his partners had divided territories, resources, even people among themselves like a bunch of post apocalyptic feudal lords and then continued to antagonize other larger centers of human activity, forced smaller groups to submit in a particularly humiliating way and even wiped out some of those that refused.

Their rule had grown so oppressive that many of the tunnel rats fled the Union-controlled so called "Heartlands". The preferred almost certain death in the poisoned wilderness and even among the soldiers and engineers, that had many privileges compared to the civilians and that were constantly encouraged to look down on the tunnel rats, their was a lot of resentment toward the ruling caste.

John Connor had used that resentment to establish himself as viable alternative to the current leadership while at the same time having to play the role of their subordinate. President Sharp and his ilk of course knew about the threat to their authority and they hated Connor with a passion.

But SkyNet went to the offensive again, deadlier than ever before since Judgment Day and John Connor quickly proved himself the only one capable of stopping the murderous attack in it's tracks. So the Union Council honored the new hero, showering him with praise in public, while trying to undermine him and sharpening their knives in private. Connor had nothing but disgust and bitter hatred for the people that were prepared to endanger the very survival of humanity, just to protect their own positions of power and satisfy their greed.

He considered them traitors just as much as the grays, a sentiment Savannah shared. Nonetheless they had no choice but to play their game, at least for the moment.  
Now the games of deceit that General Connor and TechCom, the special units loyal only to him, had to play against the Union Council had become deeply personal for Savannah Weaver in a way that was new to her.

The settlement consisted of about two dozen houses. In the decades after Judgment Day the wilderness had reclaimed a most of the land and many areas where the ground was not too poisoned, away from the cities and military bases that had been the primary targets of the bombs, had been quickly swallowed by wildly growing forests. In the early years of the war the atmosphere had been so filled with dust kicked up by the global nuclear holocaust that the sun had seemed pale during the day and the amount of light and warmth reaching the surface had been greatly reduced. Many plants had died and woods had been reduced to naked, lifeless skeletons. The sharp winds had eroded the fertile soil and many had thought that the end of all organic life was near. Thankfully that had turned out not to be the case. While the deserts of the world had definitely grown, new deserts had been created and the rain had drenched the earth with poison, the trees and other plant life still had made a glorious comeback. Almost every patch of land that had been protected from the winds by hills and mountains was covered by thick green, including many of man's abandoned cities, some of which had turned into veritable jungles. Wild animals also were strongly multiplying again though Savannah suspected that the other species nonetheless suffered from the same problems of sterility and mental and physical deficiencies caused by radiation poisoning that so often plagued the human race.

The valley were the settlers had erected their little town had been completely covered by forest too, before the trees had been cleared out to make place for the houses built from their timber and for fields were different sorts of grain and vegetables were cultivated as well as the pasture for their small herd of goats. Most of the houses were nestled into the sides or at the bottom of the valley but Savannah's goal was the log cabin that was situated at the top of the highest hill overlooking the entire village. As Savannah had expected most of the huts lay in darkness. The people here went to sleep early because they had to rise before the sun to get on with their hard work. She pressed her heels into flanks of her mare. "Come on, old girl, we have almost made it." Rosinante reluctantly stopped gobbling up the grass at her feet and trotted forward. Savannah climbed out of the saddle leading the horse by the reigns for the last 40 meters. she tied Rosinante to the half grown apple tree that had been planted beside the cabin and stepped up to the heavy door to knock. The settlement had no electricity and several minutes went by before a flickering light appeared that shone through the cracks in the door. "Who is there?" a wary, female voice asked. It was quite clear that the woman was not happy about getting a visitor.

"It's Savannah, Trudy, please open the door!" For about thirty seconds there was absolute silence, then Savannah heard how a bolt was removed. The door was opened but only far enough for Savannah to see the still wary and suspicious face of a white haired old woman that scrutinized her in the light of the lamp falling through the opening. Than a smile appeared on the woman's weathered face, a smile that seemed to completely transform her visage. "Sav!" she said. "My god, it's really you." She quickly opened the door wide and stepped out to embrace the beautiful, pale faced redhead that had stepped back into her life completely unexpectedly. "Look at you, girl, more stunning than ever. I guess you still have to beat off the boys with a stick?" Savannah suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Years past the old lady had used to annoy her to no end with comments like this, causing her blush furiously when she was still a young teenager. But that was long over, her carefree innocence had not lasted long. Still she was happy to see the person that had played such an important part in her early live again, despite the circumstances too happy to be annoyed. So instead she grinned rougishly and answered: "Only in the cases where I don't want them to catch me, Trudy." Humor wasn't Savannah's strong suit but she played the game as well as she could for the old woman's sake. The grin didn't reach her eyes though. Trudy chuckled softly. "I know exactly what you mean. Well, it may be hard to believe but old Trudy was quite a heart breaker too, when she was young. Before I met my Doug, of course." Than she abruptly got serious. "You should better come in child, better not to be seen."

Savannah followed the woman into the cabin. From outside it appeared smaller than it was the surprisingly spacious inside had been subdivided into no less than four rooms. The small kitchen had two chairs and bench arrayed around a table and the old woman invited Savannah to take a seat. She did but only reluctantly. There really was no time for niceties. Trudy sat down opposite of her. "Listen Trudy, I don't have much time. I am here to warn you and to borrow Boris' truck." Trudy Cavanaugh stared at the woman that had for a time been like a second grand daughter to her as if she had not heard a word of what Savannah had said. Though she was still smiling a deep sadness shone out her eyes. Savannah sighed. "I know that it's strange and perhaps rather overwhelming. Me suddenly turning up after I didn't visit for such a long time, not even after Doug's death but you have to listen to me. Some very dangerous people are after me and it is possible that they will come for people that are or were close to me and..." Before she could continue, Trudey interrupted her. "I have heard everything, my dear. Please forgive an old woman for wanting to just look at you for a few moments. Who is after you and why?" Her face became completely serious and businesslike. Savannah felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had feared for a moment that the old lady had perhaps become senile but seemingly that fear was unfounded. Trudey's gaze was as clear and sharp as it had ever been.

"I'll quickly outline the situation for you but my time is short and giving you too much details will only make the risk greater for you." Savannah said quickly. Trudey nodded and looked at her expectantly. She has not offered me something to eat or drink, uncharacteristic of her but a good sign, it shows she understands I am serious about having little time, Savannah thought. Without further delay she launched into her explanation. "In my capacity as a officer of TechCom I managed to get a post at a secret research center working directly under the Union Council. The Council doesn't have a very high opinion of TechCom, and vice versa, but they allowed me to become the official contact between TechCom and the Cyber Warfare Research Division. I guess they thought not allowing anyone in there would only serve to make TechCom more suspicious of their activities and so, in the name of good relations between the different branches and for the reduction of interservice rivalry, I got the job. Of course they only showed me the comparably harmless parts of work or at least only aimed at battling SkyNet. But I knew they were hiding some really juicy stuff and dug deeper. I managed to convince a techie, Billy, to help me and finally I found what I had suspected from the beginning. The bastards have created a secret weapon, something they call "Project Garnet", that is not meant to be used at SkyNet at all. No, it's single purpose is to guarantee that they and nobody else will control this world once SkyNet and its machines are defeated. And to do that they first want to either murder or enslave a very good friend of mine. And I'll be damned before I let that happen or before I allow us all to end up under the jackboots of President Sharp, Admiral Bell and all the other fascist thugs after so many good people devoted their lives to freeing us from SkyNet's tyranny." Savannah paused for a second after rattling down the first part of her explanation pretty much without breathing. She drew a deep breath before continuing. "With Billy's help I managed to make a copy of the incriminating data to give them both to my friend and to General John Connor. After leaving the research base I wanted to reach the Agricultural School, the only exclusively Techcom run installation in Governor Admiral Bell's territory, even if it is the civilian branch. Unfortunately the Council goons at cyber warfare allowed neither a weapon nor a means for long distance communication to keep me from making contact with TechCom and Connor directly. When I realized that they would get me before a could reach the school I changed my plans and exchanged my pick up for horse called Rosinante and let couple of farmers ride of into the sunset with the car, hopefully throwing the bastards of my trail. Now I am here to warn you, in case they send somebody to get you and use you against me and to borrow the truck of Old Boris to complete my journey. When those set of data reaches it's destination, we have a real chance of getting those corrupt tyrants finally of our backs."

They sat in complete silence for a few moments, Trudey processing the information that Savannah had just provided her with. Finally Savannah stood. "So, could you help me to persuade Old Boris to give me the keys to the truck or do I have to steal them at knife point?" Trudey looked up at her frowning than she raised one hand and let it fall down on the table with such force that bowl that had already been set on it in preparation for breakfast bounced. The old lady rose and stared at Savannah with a grim face. "So nicht, junges Fräulein! Nobody will be robbed at knife point here. I will wake Boris and get the key from him, no problem. But despite the gravity and urgency of the situation you will behave like a civilized human being, just like James Ellison, Doug and I taught you. Do you understand?" "Jawohl!" Savannah answered out of reflex before she could stop herself. In the dark years after Judgment Day James Ellison the man she had looked up to as her adoptive father had soon started to play a increasing role in the emerging resistance. After the tragic loss of Sarah Connor the former FBI Agent had managed to pull of a nearly super human achievement in raising the firebrand Savannah Weaver all on his own and becoming a true hero of the resistance at the same time.

It had gotten a good deal easier when Ellison together with other resistance fighters saved the lifes of a middle aged couple, former high school biology teacher Trudey Cavanaugh and her husband Douglas, plus their daughter Michelle and their grand daughter. The Cavanaughs had eased James burden (the good man had no prior experience with raising a child after all) by taking care of young Savannah when James could not. This way Savannah had gotten adoptive grand parents on top of her beloved adoptive father. Trudey and Doug had saved quite a lot of orphaned children from death by starvation, neglect or murder. Trudey had even taught classes in the dank underground tunnels that had been their home during those days. After all the children would kneed knowledge to survive and to rebuild the world once the machines were defeated. The army officers leading the early resistance movement up to and including the late General Ashford had encouraged or at least tolerated such efforts. One more thing that had changed when Admiral Gordon Sharp took over after Ashford's death, quickly starting to set entirely new priorities. Trudey's mother tounge, german, was only one of many things Savannah had learned from her. "So ist es besser. I have not even thought about offering you something to eat, knowing that you would decline anyway, but you should at least drink something. No, keine Widerrede, you know how dangerous dehydration is. The people hunting will certainly not arrive within the next five minutes." The woman placed a jar full of water and a cup on the table. Defeated, Savannah slumped back down on the chair. Resistance was futile against the force that was Trudey Cavanaugh. At least she had no doubt anymore that Trudey took the situation serious and she really was thirsty.

"When you knocked at the door, I first believed the National Guard was paying me a visit." the old woman called from the neighboring room she had disappeared to. "Just let me get dressed than I will bring you to Boris." Boris was the elected "mayor" of the settlement and the keeper, but not owner, of the village's only car. Savannah had met him only once, during her one and only visit to the town soon after the Cavanaughs had decided to leaf the tunnels behind and take part in the program for the resettlement of the surface, initiated by General Connor. Unfortunately Connor's vision of self administering communities had soon been history when the members of President Sharp's Union Council and their senior commanders started to turn the settlers, most of them former tunnel rats, into their personal serfs and the land into their own private property.

"Does the National Guard often harass you?" Savannah called back after downing a cup of water with one gulp. Trudey had been right, she almost immediately felt better. "Since a remarkable streak of luck landed us with Admiral Bell as our new governor, more and more people have tried to flee this sector. This forced the good admiral to secure his possessions, all for the well being of the Union of course." "Meaning?" "Meaning the electrified fences you perhaps have heard about, mines, patrols, bloodthirsty guard dogs and at the personal "haciendas" of the of the high ranking officers they regularly chain people up for the night, sometimes they even have to wear chains and iron collars while working." "No way!" Savannah exclaimed. Her fingers closed around the cup with enough force to make it crack. Things could not have gotten this bad in the last two and a half years. They just couldn't. Trudey returned fully clothed, saw the broken cup in Savannah's hand and took it away without comment to replace it with a new one. "The Guard is under order to regularly check in on us to confirm that we haven't disappeared. But the drunken louts are not exactly dependable. Sometimes they come every day, sometimes they don't show their faces for weeks. They are long overdue this time and and I first thought... No, that was foolish. If it had been them I would have heard them long before they had knocked at the door." "So they do knock?" Savannah asked sarcastically. "Sometimes. As you know they are officially charged with protecting us. And to think that I left East Germany as a girl to end up like this in my old days, it is certainly ironic." said the old woman with a bitter chuckle. "Sorry about that." Savannah murmured nipping at her new cup of water. "Why on earth should you have to feel sorry for this situation, child?" Trudey asked, putting a hand on Savannah's arm. "You shouldn't apologize for something you haven't done." "I know," Savannah sighed. " Perhaps I should begin by apologizing to the kids I left with the car. I told them I would try to get General Connor to bail them out in case they were caught. In that moment I really believed it or at least told myself that I did. Considering the circumstances it wouldn't be surprising if they were already dead. And I really want to put some pain on somebody for all this."

The sadness that had for a short while almost disappeared from the old woman's eyes returned with full force. "That's a pretty heavy burden you are carrying there. If you are right it is a burden of guilt that haunt you for the rest of your life. And probably rightly so, I think. But tell me, did you tell them that they were risking their lives or did you tell them they had nothing to fear?" Savannah was shocked at the insinuation. "Of course I told them that they were risking their lives!" "Than your did not lie to them?" Savannah blinked, feeling rather helpless. "No, I didn't, I mean..." She fumbled for an answer. "Why did they agree to help you despite knowing the danger?" Savannah searched for an answer without coming to a real conclusion. "To be honest I don't really know." "Well they probably thought your mission was important enough to merit the risk. Now come, drink up and than we visit Old Boris." Savannah nodded. Just thinking about her mission chased away the dark clouds of despair and reinvigorated her. "After all the nomads and rovers were driven of, forcibly recruited or killed and for so long as the machines don't renew their attacks there's probably not much that you need protection from except from the National Guard itself. And wolves or something like that." "Oh, don't worry. The wolves mostly were eaten or chased away by the tigers." Trudey deadpanned. Savannah almost choked on her final gulp of water. "Don't make fun of me, Trudey!" she protested after a coughing fit that caused her eyes to tear had subsided. "I'm not joking." the white haired woman said without a hint of irony. "Do you know how many captive big cats were living in the United States before Judgment Day? Many of them in out of the way places and even more illegally. Most of the poor things probably starved to death in their cages but some escaped or were let out. Enough for them to start breeding it seems. And not only cats, North America is probably crawling with exotic animals of all kinds by now. The tigers seem to take well to the local climate though." "Nah wunderbar. Just wonderful. Well, I suggest we get going. And after talking to Boris we will decide how to get you away from here. You think you could ride Rosinante?" "If Rosinante happens to like me, it should be no problem." the older woman confidently said. "But I wouldn't want the other settlers to get into trouble because of my disappearance." "We'll see about that when we... What the fuck?" Trudey threw a very disapproving look at Savannah before stepping up to the small kitchen window. The sounds of a car driving up to the cabin were unmistakeable as were the voices of several men. Very loud and obviously loaded men.

"Speak of the devil." the former teacher murmured. "Well, they **are** overdue." Savannah felt as if the whole damn universe had begun to conspire against her. Be cold, she told herself, control, that's what you need right now. Analyze the situation like a machine would. If you had a gun it would be different but so... The car stopped a few meters from the house, the headlights shining through the kitchen window. "It's Sergeant Curtis with his two friends." Trudey commented. "They have made it a ritual to visit me and pressure me into making dinner for them. Curtis is a former pupil of mine that seems to have taken liking to my cooking skills and Hausmannskost. He believes he can use me as his personal take out restaurant." she added bitterly. "And he was such a nice boy once, before being recruited into the National Guard." When she saw Savannah's questioning look she added: "You don't know him, Liebes. He came into my little "class" after your time." Car doors were opened and the voices became louder as the men strolled up to the cabin. "Any chance they are coming only for a short time visit?" Savannah whispered. "Doubtful, I fear." the older woman answered with shake of her head. "Since you don't have a gun, you should perhaps hide in the back room. I will try to keep them in the kitchen." Trudey suggested. Savannah's face hardened as she made a decision. Gun or not, she would take the goons out if she deemed it necessary in the slightest.

"It might become necessary for you to kick up a distraction. Think you could live with sticking something pointy into one of them?" Savannah whispered into the other's ear. The old woman nodded without hesitation. Somebody started hammering at the door. An improvised plan started taking shape in Savannah's mind though in would be easier to implement without her TechCom uniform. "Clothes?" she hissed. "Bedroom." the former high school teacher whispered back. "Open up, granny, we have seen the light. I know you're not sleeping yet." a man hollered from the outside. Savannah silently closed the door to the bedroom just as Trudey answered. "Ja, Ja. No reason to break down my door, I'm an old woman not a speed train." Savannah heard how the door was opened than heavy steps on the floorboards. "About time you old nazi hag!" a male voice complained. "One more moment and we would have kicked in the door for real. We are here on official business!" Savannah's heart skipped a beat. Could it possibly be, that they had already knew about and were coming for her? Somehow she couldn't imagine that Col. Dr. Eustace Ross would count on three drunken hicks to capture her. "Yes, looks like your settlement did meet the quota last time. So we have to collect a little extra tax." another man snickered. "And we thought we start with you." Despite the still grim situation Savannah was relieved. They apparently weren't searching for her, leaving her still with the moment of surprise. She looked around the dark bedroom, weakly illuminated only the light from the kitchen that shone through under the door. It contained not much, only a bed, a nightstand and two cabinets. Douglas Cavanaugh, Trudey's husband had built the furniture with his own hands. He had been been a highly skilled craftsman before two strokes had turned him into pretty much a vegetable. It was impossible for Savannah to imagine the vibrant man she had known as a child in such a state though. Banishing the thought, she opened the first cabinet, carefully avoiding making any noise. Blindly feeling her way in the dark closet she fished out several articles of clothing.

"The quota thing is bullshit and you well know it." Trudey Cavanaugh growled. Calvin Curtis, twenty two years old Sergeant of the Union National Guard, just grinned nastily. "Don't throw a fit, granny. Do you really want to to insinuate that we lying or ripping you off. Tsst, Tsst." He shook his clean-shaven head. "That's a serious allegation." "Yes, we are only doing our job, keeping the army of the resistance well stocked. Shame on you for saying otherwise." his lanky, pimpled companion, Private Boyed, confirmed snickering. "Perhaps we can overlook this insult if you invite us for dinner, granny. What do you say, dinner for three tired warriors?" "You wouldn't recognize a true warrior before he kicked you sorry behind, boy." the former teacher grumbled. She knew she could not provoke the goons to much but she had no intention of hiding her disgust and after living through the same, tired ritual for quite some time now she knew how to tread the fine line. Except for the fact that Sergeant Curtis today was little bit more drunk and a little bit more aggressive than normally. With a sharp slapping sound his fist collided with Trudey Cavanaugh's face, the old woman falling back with a cry of pain. "Halt dein dreckiges Maul, Nazifotze! Just shut up!" The third man of little band, Private Collins had the decency to feel rather uncomfortable about the whole situation but not enough to grow a spine so he took a sudden fascination to the ceiling. The old woman's returned to it's stone like expression after the first wave of pain had subsided. She wiped a thin trickle of blood of her split lip. "I'll have you know that my grandfather was in Ausschwitz, you idiot." "Oh, I know that one, he got drunk one night and fell from the guard tower!" Private Boyed guessed then he started laughing hysterically about his own joke. It sounded a bit like the bleating of a goat which happened to fit his thin, elongated faced rather well. "Shut up, Boyed! Sorry about that, granny. I guess I overreacted. We probably all had a trying day. How about something to eat, I bet we will all feel better than, hmh?" Curtis towered above the old lady, offering a smile that he considered to be reconcilatory and his hand. Trudey, still stone faced, took his hand and allowed him to help her up. Suddenly the door opened and the three men whirled around, two of them pointing shotguns at the new arrival.

The attractive, red haired woman raised her arms in shock as suddenly found herself threatened by weapons. "Don't shoot, please. I heard voices and thought... Grandmother, are you okay?" "Everything is alright, Caroline." Trudey said quickly, the littlest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and disappearing again before anyone could see it. "My granddaughter, Caroline, you have all heard of her. Caroline, these gentlemen are the visitors I expected." Collins and Boyed lowered their shotguns and the younger woman stepped into the cabin. "Yes, you mentioned them and... Are you alright, grandmother?" she looked at Trudey concerned. Sergeant Curtis stepped between the two women and stopped the younger from rushing to the older's side. "Your grandmother is well, Caroline. Nice to finally meet you after hearing so muck about you. I'm Sergeant Calvin Curtis from the Union National Guard, an old friend and former pupil of Trudey's. This are my men, Privates Boyed and Collins." He nodded at first one and than the other for emphasis. The woman reluctantly took his hand and shook it. Curtis looked her up and down, clearly appreciating her figure and the fact that the rather short dress she was wearing covered only about half of her shapely thighs. But despite shamelessly checking her out he also looked rather sceptical. Her sudden appearance did not really jime for him. The two privates simply stared and practically drooled. "Sweet Jesus, to think that that hottie came from something that crawled out of that dried up, ugly old cunt." Boyed whispered to Collins, loud enough for everyone to hear. Even Collins was disgusted and elbowed his fellow guard's man.

"Sorry for bad manners of my colleague, he is an idiot and not worthy of his uniform." Curtis said after demonstratively throwing an evil look at Boyed. "Private Boyed, you will immediately apologize to the lady." Boyed at first started to laugh than he realized that his superior was serious. He shrugged and quickly mumbled an apology that was far harder to understand than the preceding insult. The young Sergeant grinned, reveling in his power over his subordinate and obviously thinking himself rather sophisticated. He turned back to "Caroline". "I can assure you, not all of us in the National Guard are like him. So, you are visiting your grand mother?" "Caroline" nodded. "I normally live in settler community in the delta sector under Governor General Rester, I have all the necessary papers, of course, if you want to see them." "Yeah, I'll need to have a look at them." Curtis confirmed. A civilian crossing into the territory under Admiral Bell's control was unthinkable with ID and an official permission. Curtis knew that things like that were handled rather lax in many other sectors but not here. He would not take a risk with this one. Some of the other governors really allowed their peasants far to many freedoms. But on the other hand she was rather easy on the eyes and perhaps a little bit of fun could be had. The dress certainly looked slutty enough. Most women around these parts of the woods took care to cover themselves up, as to not draw attention to themselves, not that it worked very often. Savannah fumed on the inside. Without two shotguns in the way she would take those creeps apart with her bare hands but dodging bullets was not as easy in reality as it had looked in some old pre Judgment Day action movies. She forced her face to remain as neutral as possible, hiding her burning hatred and silently cursing the far to short dress that she had grabbed. Still, the Techcom uniform would have immediately robbed her of chance of surprising her enemies and probably gotten them to immediately call for reinforcements. She missed the early days of the war when every soldier simply wore whatever rags he happened to call his own. "Were you taking a walk outside, Caroline? That can be quite dangerous. There are many wild animals around." While Curtis was grilling her for information, Boyed was following their information with a sly grin, Private Collins had started cleaning his shotgun while sitting on the kitchen table and Trudey feigned being concerned with preparing the utensils needed for making the meal that was expected of her. Savannah nodded in silence, it was surely not unexpected or surprising on her part to be uneasy and keeping her answers as short and to the point as possible.

"How did you travel here?" the sergeant implored. "By horse." she answered. Rosinante is tied up at the side cabin that is invisible while driving up to the house like they did. Otherwise they would have certainly asked where she comes from by now. Seeing Curtis questioning look she quickly continued. "I arrived shortly after dawn, left my horse behind the house and wanted to say hello to some people I know from years back. But the all went to bed early and I didn't want to disturb them, so I returned here." "You arrived shortly before we did, quite a coincidence." Sergeant Curtis leaned against the table, folding his arms before his chest and staring at her hard, inquisitive eyes. He certainly would have preferred the role of the casanova he believed himself to be, but his superiors weren't very tolerant concerning failure and he knew that he had to be cautious. "Allow me to ask, why aren't you in the military? You seem fit and healthy enough." Why aren't you, instead of joining the brown shirt goon squad, was the answer that was lying on Savannah's tongue. "Epilepsy." "Epilepsy?" Curtis repeated with a frown. "A neurological condition, I sometimes have seizures , fall down and..." "I know what epilepsy is, thank you. Now that you mention it, your granny once mentioned you suffering from it. She also mentioned that you couldn't visit you because of it." Curtis looked over at Trudey, who simply shrugged. "Now you can perhaps imagine what a shock it was to see her." she commented.

Curtis was a sadistic goon and a sleazy piece of scum but he was not stupid. He had known the answer and tested her to check her identity. Savannah would have to be careful. And all the while the clock was ticking without pause or mercy. "Despite this sickness you rode here, on your own, to visit your grandmother. Impressive and touching."  
"Well, I endanger only my own life, not those of others. For me it's worth it." The sergeant decided to flip flop back into the role of nice guy. "I'm really sorry for having to ask you all those questions. It's not that I don't believe you. But you know how it is..." Savannah pretended to accept his apology. "I know you are only doing your duty, sergeant. I have no problem with that." She managed to fake a hopefully believable smile. Curtis smiled back. "Still, I have to take a look at your papers." "Of course." "You really shouldn't walk around in the darkness and alone at that. The smell of the goats is irresistable for predators." Savannah smiled again. "Well, I guess you really came at the right moment than. To protect me, I mean." The guard's man stepped up closer to her. "Yes, and I will personally escort you back to the border, just to ensure nothing happens on the way back." "Aw, that's really sweet of you." Savannah said almost cooing. "Es ist eine Selbstverständlichkeit, meine Liebe." She stared at him uncomprehending. "My granddaughter doesn't speak german." Trudey explained while kneeling down to light the firewood in the oven. "No german? I'm disappointed, granny. She should know her cultural heritage, after all." Curtis turned back to "Caroline". "Your grandmother is a fabulous teacher. She taught me german pretty well. If you want to learn it, we could arrange for..." he licked his lips, "a private lesson or two." Private Boyed started snickering again. Savannah suppressed the need to retch, instead she grinned. "Sounds good, though I don't believe my husband would like the idea very much." "Oh, you know the saying, whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." Curtis said nonchalantly. He felt rather daring now. Not that he couldn't just take her if he wanted but that boring with time. And this girl seemed open enough to his advances without him having to resort to force.

"I'm surprised your husband didn't come with you on this long journey." Private Collins commented. He had said nothing until now but followed their conversation closely. "Caroline" shrugged. "It was hard enough to get an allowance to leave work for myself. We all have our duties, after all." "Yeah, and for girls those consist of either fighting or fucking, or preferable both!" Private Boyed said and started laughing or rather bleating again until Collins hit him over the head. "Well, I am doing my duty. My husband and I have four kids." It was not a complete lie, Trudey really had four great grandchildren. Savannah hoped that she hadn't overdone it and that she had not hurt Trudey's feelings too much. "No way!" Boyed blurted out. "That hottie never has had four brats." Collins seemed sceptical as well. "Wanna see the baby photos?" Savannah said, lifting an eye brow. "Not necessary but I really want to have a short look at your papers now, if you don't mind." Curtis said. He was getting bored and frustrated by now. Caroline had seemed so receptive, hopefully she would get the hint. She certainly didn't seem prudish, who cared that old granny was here as well?" "No problem, they are in the bedroom." It seemed his prayers had been answered. As he followed the redhead to the bedroom, Curtis looked back once more. Boyed's grin seemed to almost split his face in two and he gave a thumbs up while Collins had resumed silently cleaning his weapon. Savannah put the oil lamp she had taken with her from the kitchen on the nightstand and proceeded to open one of the cabinets, as if she wanted to take something out. Curtis pushed it closed again. "I don't think we are in a hurry here." he whispered before starting to nibble at her ear and putting one arm around her waist while the other snaked up to her breasts, groping and squeezing them through the thin fabric. Once again Savannah wanted to retch but willed herself to remain calm and stay in the role of the braindead slut. She had to take him out fast and silently, otherwise his friends would descend upon her guns blazing. Unfortunately Curtis did not have a firearm himself, no doubt believing he would not need one while harassing an old lady. So taking him out of the equation would help her only slightly. She needed Trudey to act as well. I'll really have to wash out my mouth with soap after this, she thought. She turned around and kissed him passionately on the mouth.

Curtis was surprised at how aggressive she was. But it certainly was a pleasant surprise. Caroline proceded to kiss his jaw and neck, all the way down to the collar bone. When his shirt was in the way, she simply ripped it open, sending the buttons flying. She pressed her hands against his chest and returned her attention to his face, kissing him again and biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and cause him to hiss in pain. Suddenly she took a step back grinning seductively, while sliding the straps of her dress of her naked shoulders. "Turn around." she said with a husky voice. It was an order he could not refuse. He turned toward the bed and listened for the sweet sound of the fabric sliding down her enticing body. "You should leave those boots on." he purred and imagined her wearing them but nothing else. Little, fiery minx he thought. He smiled cruelly. Secure in his knowledge, that she did neither speak nor understand german despite her german grandmother, he decided to add a little extra. "Tja, dann werde ich dich also jetzt vögeln, auf dem Bett auf dem dein gelähmter Opa die letzten Wochen seines Lebens verbracht hat. Das heißt, bevor wir ihn von seinen Leiden erlöst haben." Complete silence filled the room. "Oh right, you don't speak german. Sorry, a woman as hot like you can get a man to forget even his own name. I just said that I'm really looking forward to making sweet, sweet love to you on this wonderful, fluffy bed." He chuckled. Suddenly a hand grabbed him with an iron grip, holding his nose and mouth closed and savagely janking his head back. A combat knife was drawn over his throat, from one ear to the other, cutting through jugular, wind pipe and oesophagus at once, slitting open his neck with such force that it almost cut down to the bone. He wanted to scream but could only gurgle. And even couldn't be heard through Savannah's hand. Curtis' knees buckled, Savannah held onto his trashing body. "Sein Name war Douglas Cavanaugh. That was the name of the man you murdered." she whispered into his ear. "You don't know how lucky you are. Under different circumstances I would have taken my time with you, killing you very slowly. But today..." He stopped trashing and Savannah carelessly dropped the body onto the bed. Unfortunately there was neither opportunity nor time to take take a bath. Well she had to contend with washing of the grime with blood than.

She stepped up to the door and listened. Apparently nobody had registered the radical turn of events. Good. Do something Trudey, she thought, trying will the old woman to start a distraction, anything. "Hey, why so silent in there. No groaning and moaning? We want to hear something of the show!" Private Boyed called from the kitchen. He laughed hysterically. Then all hell broke loose. Boyed's laughter transformed into an incoherent scream of pain, a primal, banshee like howl. Collins cursed, Savannah could hear putting the shotgun on the table despite the screams. She opened the door. Boyed was still screaming bloody murder, hopping up and down, Trudey had managed to spill boiling hot water all over his shirt, trousers and hands. Tears were streaming down his face. Collins wanted to help him and calm him down. He had left his shotgun lying on the table. "I'm afraid your friend can't hear you anymore." Savannah stated. Colling whirled around and saw her, her face, arms, the dress, almost her entire upper body splattered or rather soaked with blood, the knife in her hand. He tried to make a jump for his weapon but he was not fast enough. Savannah threw the knife with such strenght and precision, it was buried in his shoulder almost to the hilt. Now Collins was screaming as well. Savannah silenced him with a brutal chop to the side of the neck, that sent him to his knees, before taking a step back and delivering a spin kick that hit him right at the temple. Collins fell on his face like sack of potatoes. She didn't check if she had killed him, though she rather hoped that she had not. It would be a far too easy end for him.

Boyed's anguished screaming had turned into a fearful whimper as watched her take down Collins with widened eyes. His own weapon had clattered to the floor, even if Trudey had not picked it up, he wouldn't have been able to use it with his burned hands. Savannah now had more than enough time. She strolled over to the table, picking up the shotgun Collins had left behind like she didn't have a care in the world. Boyed was paralyzed with a fear that was even stronger than the pain, staring helplessly as the blood splatterd demon of death came closer and closer until her face was within an inch of his. The redheads' face was cold and empty, her eyes seemingly devoid of all life. Not even anger or hatred remained, only emptiness. "Booh!" she said and Boyed almost fainted. Savannah looked down at the shotgun in her hands then she raised it and pressed the muzzle against Boyed's chin. The guard's man started to sobb. "Tell me, who of you did it. Who of you killed the old man." "It was Collins." Trudey answered calmly. "He was always the quiet one, but in truth the worst of the bunch. Boyed and Curtis always liked to talk big but in the end they were to afraid to actually do it. So Collins did." The old lady gave the lifeless body on the ground a savage kick. "So, that's a man's duty, right?" Savannah said, turning back to Boyed. "Beating up and murdering helpless old people. Look at you, what a man you are!" She rammed the muzzle of the gun into his groin. Boyed fell to floor screaming once more. "Please, we were just following orders!" he whimpered between sobs. Savannah aimed at his grimacing face. "Who ordered you to kill the old man and why?" "Order 22. It came from the top of the food chain!" "Impossible, order 22 was killed in the council. Not even President Sharp would dare to implement it." Even as the words left her mouth Savannah wasn't really sure anymore. Admiral Bell and other hardliners had cooked up a plan to euthanize all those that were no longer able to work and couldn't be used in any other way. The plan had been vetoed and President Sharp quickly distanced himself from it, at least after John Connor and several other Generals had threatened with open civil war if it wasn't dropped. Now it seemed the original plan had been resurrected, at least on a regional base, small enough to be carried out in secret. In a region were communication with the outside world was practically impossible and that was purpose fully kept as low tech as possible. Technology was primarily for the ruling elite, after all. She kicked him once, twice, thrice. Trudey put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. Savannah really, really wanted to kill the snivelling worm at her feet, unload all her pent up hatred on him and destroy him in the most messy way possible. But the rational part of her mind told her that he perhaps could still be of use. So she contended herself with force fully bringing down her boot on his head one last time. He immediately slumped.

She pressed her eyes tightly shut before turning back to her former teacher and baby sitter. "You lied to me. You told me Doug had died from his last stroke but the truth is they murdered him. Without me coming here you would have gone on making dinner for your husband's murderers." The image that Savannah had had of Trudey Cavanaugh had been broken beyond repair in those fateful seconds in the bedroom. It seemed to be her fate to keep being disappointed by her mother figures. "What was I to do. I was difficult enough to get out a letter in the first place. And of course somebody read it. And even if, what difference would it have made? Would it have caused you to do something stupid?" Savannah snorted. "Perhaps it' true: Once a tunnel rat, always a tunnel rat. Perhaps you are really just dirty cowards." Now it was Trudey's time to snap. "That's easy for you to say. A trained soldier, young and strong, always jetting from one mission to another. You don't know what one has to do to survive here." she stopped her voice almost breaking. "Survival is not enough." Savannah said coldly. "From now on you will do exactly what I say. You will deliver something for me to the School and..." she broke of as she heard voices outside the cabin.

Several persons were coming up to the house! Savannah cursed silently and readied the shotgun. Was it her persuers or more of the National Guard thugs? When the voices dimmed down to hushed, frightful whispers she suspected a third option and relaxed slightly. Beginning with the drunken antics of the Guard's Men they really had made enough noise to wake up the entire valley. Though the people here were used to look the other way when things got ugly, the disturbance was loud and unusual enough to at least make them nosy. The door opened and a lean, athletic, african american man stepped in. In his hand he carried an axe, his other arm ending in a stump shortly above where the elbow normally was. "Hold it right there, cowboy." Savannah said sharply and pointed the shotgun at him. The man stopped in his tracks and looked her over then quickly scanning the entire room. The way he checked everything led Savannah to the conclusion that he had been a soldier. This surprised her as the veterans normally separated themselves from the ex tunnel rats. "Drop the axe then nobody will be hurt!" she commanded. The man nodded slowly and let the axe drop to the ground before his single remaining arm. He grinned. "So you took out those Guard Goons, nice work." Letting his eyes appreciatively wander over her legs he added: "And I like the dress." Savannah rolled her eyes. "The last horndog had to be put to sleep, so be careful what you say." She had had enough of drooling idiots, perverts and borderline rapists for at least a decade. The young man turned completely serious: "Sorry about that Ma'am. Every enemy of the National Guard is a friend of mine" He took a concerned look at Trudey. "Are you alright Mrs. Cavanaugh?" Trudey smiled sadly and nodded. "I'm alright. Sav, you can put down the gun. This is Sergeant Lyle, the newest member of our little community, he is certainly one of the good guys. Sergeant Lyle, this is Captain Savannah Weaver from TechCom, a former pupil of mine."  
Lyle stared at Savannah dumbfounded before grinning like a school boy and stretching out his hand. Savannah reluctantly took it, slightly miffed that Trudey had given her name away. "Captain Weaver, it is an great honor to meet you. I've heard a lot about your work, especially about the battle of Wladiwostok. I can only only apologize for my lack of respect before and express my deep gratitude. For helping Mrs. Cavanaugh, I mean." He turned back to the entrance, opening the door wide and calling: "The situation is under control, people. Mrs. Cavanaugh is unhurt." Looking back to Savannah he continued: "We must decide what to do now. The death of several members of the National Guard will have consequences, that is sure." "Oh, they are not all dead." Savannah grumbled but he was right of course. The timing of the goons had been truly terrible. "I only wanted to talk to Trudey here and be on my way. If these thugs had not suddenly appeared I would have been gone before anyone would have been the wiser. We can still make look it like that. You can return to your houses and pretend that you didn't hear or see anything." she suggested. Sergeant Lyle grimaced before shaking his head: "I'm afraid that won't be enough, Ma'am." "Definitely not." Trudey said. "When they don't return, are found dead or not at all, there will be punishments. Floggings, torture, forced labor on the large plantations, almost cerainly a few executions." "Fuck!" Savannah cursed. She had made the situation for all these people worse. Once again the universe was playing tricks of the most cruel kind on her. She willed herself to become calm and cold blooded again. In this situation she envied the cyborgs. "Perhaps we can do something to ensure we have more time. Let's wake up one of our sleeping beauties."

Collins swallowed nervously as Sergeant Lyle pressed the walkie Talkie into his hand. Savannah grinned wolfishly, stroking her shotgun like a beloved pet animal. "Go on, make the call." Collins looked from one to the other in fear. "I think you fractured my skull, you bitch. I feel like I'll pass out any moment." "Do, what we told you and might not have to sleep forever, you little fuck." Savannah, now finally back in her uniform, hissed. The guard's man pressed the send button of the radio without further protest. It didn't take long for the National Guard post to answer. Being the corrupt, incompetent goons they were, the National Guard, it least in this sector, was used to it's members taking leaf from their regular duties to pursue their private interests, especially when it came to having fun with more or less willing girls. They guys doing duty at home base had no problem with that, after all the would act the same the next time they were on the road. But it was important to share when one found something worth plundering. That was what the codex of a brotherhood of bandits demanded. When Collins informed the regional headquarter that Lieutenant Curtis and his men had found a few girls that caught their eyes and would stay for the rest of the night to party, HQ was full of understanding. Nobody would try to call them before morning.

"Let's see, that's us and that is the regional headquarter of the National Guard, were how many people are still stationed?" Savannah had used a stick to draw an improvised map into the dirt, with the help of some experienced locals. Many of the settlers were angry and afraid, blaming Savannah for their predicament and greatly fearing reprisals, when they heard that the TechCom Captain was hunted by the Union Council some loudly advocated turning her in. They were shouted down by a faction lead by Sergeant Lyle, Trudey Cavanaugh and Old Boris, the mayor. Especially the latter's influence turned the tide in Savannah's favor. "Sixteen. Plus eight that are out on patrol like us." Collins said. They had thoroughly tied him up and bound him to a tree in the center of the village. The cowardly bastard was eager to help them just as his partner Boyed was. They hoped to save their worthless hides by being useful to their captors. Savannah intended to show them that their hopes were in vain, as soon as they were no longer useful. Unfortunately they had only short distance radios in their possession.  
"Twenty four, that's not much." "Yes," Lyle said, "but don't forget they are the only ones' with fire weapons around here. Twenty guy with automatic weapons can seem rather daunting for a few hundred villagers, especially with the knowledge that they can call in far nastier reinforcements anytime." "Yeah, and our brave settlers here aren't cut out to be heroes anyway, that they have proved since their tunnel days." Savannah answered derisively. Being witness to Trudey's weakness in the face of the oppressors still ate away at her, causing her to be more hurtful than normal. "You shouldn't totally write them of, then they had nothing but rats and rotten coyotes. Today they have more reason to fight, not much but more than nothing. And those thugs are far less intimidating adversaries than the machines but at the same time even easier to hate." Savannah had to admit that there was something to Lyle's analysis. "Despite having been a soldier before, I am probably a far greater coward than any of them. I was quite a vocal supporter of President Sharp and his policies for years, as were many others in my unit and a lot of other veterans in general. But living here is the best possible cure against such an affliction." he chuckled bitterly. "Nontheless I stood by and watched doing nothing for month." "Hmh," Savannah made, not really listening to him anymore. "This settlement is one in a entire chain of villages situated in the neighboring valleys, only a short distance from here, how many veterans are there, that share your current sentiments and are still able to put up a fight? At least against a human enemy of questionable competence? And do you know somebody from this community, somebody trustworthy that is also a good rider?"

The doors of the shed opened with a loud creaking sound. The light of several lamps fell on the plastic bags that had been cramped into it, filling it almost to the ceiling. "That's the fertilizer that TechCom provided us with." Old Boris, a wizened and white haired man sporting a goatie and an uncanny similarity to the late actor Morgan Freeman explained. "The Guys from the school were a great help to us, unfortunately Admiral Bell wants to limit our contact with them to a minimum." "Unfortunately, yes." Savannah repeated absent mindedly, while taking out her combat knife and cutting open one of the bags. After sniffing at the content she smiled wickedly. "Thank God, for chemistry. Lyle, do you remember the old days of the tunnels, before why could mass produce our weapons?" She looked at him with a fiendish sparkle in her eyes. He returned her gaze with his own knowing smile. "The days of home made pipe bombs and stuff. Of course I do! How could I forget that fun?" Savannah's thoughts were racing. With all of this agricultural tools at her proposal and a working knowledge of chemistry, a lot of nasty things could be done. It just had to be done quickly. "I need every reasonably skilled craftsman you have got." she said to Old Boris. The mayor nodded and disappeared into the night. An about fourteen years old girl came up to Sergeant Lyle and whispered something into his ear. He smiled and sent her on her way before winking at Savannah. "We have four veterans from the neighboring villages. Those old dogs have been feeling positively rebellious for quit some time. The didn't need much convincing. The fact that we have a Techcom officer here and intend to call in TechCom reinforcements was all they needed to hear. They managed to quietly slip away, they know the trade well after all." "Excellent, I want to talk to them." "Here they come." Four shadows emerged from the surrounding darkness between the buildings. "By the way, the girl I sent, Bridget, has also confirmed that four of the patrol guys are there to meet with their girl friends and have been their since early evening." "Just as Boyed and Collins said. They wanted to meet with them at the pass connecting the two valleys, at midnight. Ergo we still have a bit of time to lay a trap for them, as long as HQ hasn't called them to inform them of our faked call. If that has happened, they perhaps think that the meeting has fallen into the water and drive home directly." "I don't believe so," Lyle said with a shake of his head. "As far as I know the HQ doesn't really call the patrols when they know they are out to have fun, plausible deniability and all that. Of course that is only the case if no higher ups make themselves known." Savannah had thought about that possibility. She was pretty sure that Col. Dr. Eustace Ross and Company wanted to involve as few people as possible in the hunt for her. And of course she didn't really know how much information they had about her. It had always been a real possibility that they didn't even know about Trudey and Douglas Cavanaugh and her relationship with them. Those had been quite chaotic days after all. She just hadn't wanted to take the risk after loosing far to many people important to her in her life. "I think if they intended to inform the local National Guard unit, they would have already done so. Though I'll readily admit we'll have to fly by the skin of our teeth with this one." Lyle grinned boyishly. "That has always been the way of the resistance." He jogged of to instruct the craftsmen the mayor had gathered together in the art of bomb making. Savannah looked after him with a shake of her head before turning to talk to the four veterans waiting for her.

The headlights of the car fell on the other truck parked across the narrow, dusty road that connected the two valleys with each other. Corporal Rolly managed to stop his vehicle in the last possible moment before crashing into the pick up and into Private Boyed who was standing beside it, leaning his back against the hood and smoking a cigarette. Angrily he jumped out of the car, followed by his friend, to knock some sense into the idiot. "Are you fucking mad, Boyed? Standing there in the middle of the street, head lights turned of. I swear I'll kick your sorry, drunken ass." He stopped his tirade when he realized Boyed was alone. "Where the hell are Curtis and Collins?" Private Boyed dropped his cigarette, stepping on it to extinguish the embers. Than he ducked. Out of the corners of his eyes Corporal Rolly of the Union National Guard saw several shadows emerge out of the night and from behind the rocks that surrounded them. "Oh shit!" were his rather undignified last words before a hail of bullets cut him and his three comrades down.

"Counting the weapons of the original three stooges, including the reserve guns in their trunk and those we captured at the pass, we now have a considerable arsenal. And that is without taking molotov cocktails, three self made shrapnel grenades and our special, explosive surprise into acount." Sergeant Lyle concluded his status report. "Perfect. PFC Roscoe is already on his way to the Guard HQ. I hope he is as good a marksman as he says." "Well he was a deer hunter before Judgment Day. Finding a professional, trained sharp shooter in our circumstances and amongst our handful of veterans is probably a bit much to ask for." Savannah and Lyle had met up with old Boris, in the mayor's house. Now they standing above a hatch and a rather nervous Boris was searching for his key. "Locking up his voters is probably the last thing a democratic politician should do." was the old man's rather tired attempt at a joke. "Sorry, but your house is one of only two with a cellar." Savannah explained. Boris opened the hatch with a heavy sigh, revealing the very angry faces of four persons, two men and two women. "Your can kiss your office good buy, Boris." one of the women hissed when her eyes adjusted to the light of the lamp the mayor was holding. Their bitter resistance against Savannah's plans had brought the four a temporary stay in the town headman's cellar. "I'm really sorry, Clarice. But think about it, this is our best and perhaps last chance at getting a better life. John Connor himself will come to our rescue. Admiral Bell is done for and perhaps even President Sharp will fall." "You are an old fool, Boris!" Clarice spit angrily while allowing the mayor to help her up the stair. "That pretty, redheaded wannabe Guevara has wrapped you around her pinkie. She will get us all slaughtered!" She threw a hateful glance at Savannah, who's face show no emotion at all. This caused Sergeant Lyle to ask himself if the bizarre rumor he had once heard about Captain Savannah Weaver, that she had been raised by machines like Romulus and Remus by a she wolf, could have a grain of truth. He dismissed the thought at once. No matter, he had known her only for hours but she had already surpassed his expectations. "The village is in the process of being evacuated. Nobody will be forced to fight, in fact I need only a handful of people that can shoot or at least throw to accomplish our goal. The less civilians are standing in the way the better. The girl named Bridged knows the surrounding hill quite well, she can show you several good hiding places. You just have to wait and be quiet. In less than twenty four hours TechCom forces will arrive and you will have nothing to fear anymore." Savannah explained. Her conviction and seeming total ease impressed even Clarice and the other critics.

"I thought about using the fertilizer to build an improvised land mine but it's better to trap all of our mice in one trap and to capture as many vehicle intact as possible. What are you looking at?" "Nothing at all." Lyle smiled and returned to rolling a cigarette. Savannah found it impressive to see how quick and skilled he did things with one hand that others needed twice the time for, even using two. She caught herself staring and suddenly felt awkward. She knew from he own experience how it felt to be stared at in such a way. Like one was at best an object or at worst a monster. Not that this war hadn't created it's fair share of monsters, but as always the monstrousness often didn't show on the outside. "You know, it doesn't phase me in the slightest, when people stare. I have nothing to hide or to be ashamed of, just because I lost a bit of flesh and bone while doing my duty." He had apparently read her mind. "Of course not," she protested, "I just thought you had very skilled fingers." Realising how that sounded she felt a hint of pink rising into her cheeks. What the hell was going on here. She felt like a stupid teenager not herself. Savannah had not blushed for many years. It wasn't like she was innocent in any of the different conceivable meanings of the word. Quite to the contrary. When one was a hardened killer, sometimes accused even by one's own allies of having a psychotic streak, and was often accused of being something of a maneater, an accusation that Savannah herself freely admitted to be rooted in fact, one didn't have much reason to blush left. "It's a cliche but of course it's also true that the body compensates as good as it can when you loose a limb. You know, I wanted to be a magician once, before Judgment Day." He laughed as he saw Savannah's sceptical look. "Really, you mean card tricks and all that stuff?" "Yup, trained before the mirror every day for years on end. I was no David Copperfield but I like to think that I was pretty good. I had already started thinking about stage name to start my career as a professional magician but alas Judgment Day arrived and SkyNet had different plans. I still do things like letting coins appear and disappear, as training and for fun. Heard once that it's good for the central nervous system too. But if and when we win this war, who knows, maybe it's not to late to become the world's first one handed magician." Savannah wasn't sure what to say so she contented herself with making :"Hmh." Of course she immediately felt like and idiot again and he laughed. "I'll admit it's a pretty childish dream though." Now Savannah took offense. It felt good talking about little things like that, not about machines, the war, doom and gloom and her own fucked up past. And people with dreams were sorely lacking now a days. "Why, it is an art form after all and even if it were childish, who gives? It's not like any of us had a real chance to be young anyway. So if you want to catch up on something you missed, more power to you." Then a very different thought crossed her mind. "You know John Henry is capable of making really good protheses and perhaps..." "I know, I already tried that but for reasons even John Henry could not explain my body rejected them, twice." He sighed wistfully. "Oh, sorry about that." "Why do you say sorry, it wasn't your fault was it?" Without having any way of knowing it, he had used the same words that Trudey had used as well. Her thoughts drifted to the old woman now on her way to a hiding place outside of town with the other non combatants and than to Bridged the young girl that had helped them to gather the veterans in record time and was now riding as fast as she could to reach the agricultural laboratory and school of TechCom with micro disc containing a copy of a data set that could decide the fate of the world. Sending her was definitely a better choice than sending the old woman. Well, she thought, you have survived far worse situations. Compared to the battle of Wladiwostok this is a birthday party for children. Lyle closed his fingers around the completed cigarette, making a fist. When opened it again the lung torpedo had disappeared. "Very impressive, Houdini." Savannah commented. "I'll make it reappear after our victory." he said grinning.

They waited in silence for a few minutes. Normally Savannah was quite comfortable with just doing her job and didn't care for small talk but she had to admit that the sergeant was an interesting man. "It may be a stupid question, looking at how it turned out, but did you like the quiet country live? I mean when your first came here, before you realised all bullshit?" "At first I was very frustrated because I felt I wasn't doing my real duty, wasting my time. But then I thought: Well, it's a way to help in building a new world, that's worth something. Of course it turned out to be far harder and stressfull than I had imagined but it has it's charm. But I was a city boy before Judgment Day and I'm probably not cut out to be a farmer. Of course right now I'm quite happy to be here." "You know, if and when we win this war, and you go through with the whole magician thing, I would like to see one of your performances very much." "It would be a great honor," he said smiling, "but now I would like hear more about you. I know some of the stages of your military career, which is exceedingly impressive, but I would like to know more about Savannah Weaver, the person." He pretended the molotov cocktail in his hand were a microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are here to find out the most fascinating secret of all, who is Savannah really and what makes her tick. Ow, don't hit me. Ladies and gentlemen, that is one thing we know for sure, Savannah Weaver has certain violent tendencies. Unfortunately that's not excactly new. So what are your deepest, darkest and of course most embarrassing secrets." "Oh, I don't know, I'm a regular kind of gal, not much story to tell." "I find that impossible to believe but rest assured, Ladies and Gentlemen, we will get to the bottom of this. Ow!" Suddenly Savannah stopped hitting him and instead pressed her index finger onto his lips. "Here they come." She pressed the send button of the walkie talkie: "Chicken Hawk, here is Rooster. Do you copy?" After a bit of static the voice of PFC Roscoe answered: "Rooster, here is Chicken Hawk. I hear well and am in position now. Only problem is, the target is a sitting duck. If the bastard would move his ass..." "Roger Chicken Hawk, we will get him to move soon enough, stay in position. Rooster over and out." Savannah rolled over, so that she was lying her stomach and was perfectly positioned to control the entire open space beneath her with her rifle. She and Lyle were lying on the roof of the mayor's house, over looking the empty area in the center of the little town. There was only one way to get into it with cars and exactly on the opposite of the area, facing the access road was the large warehouse were the settlers gathered and stored all fruits of there hard work that were intended for the governor and the military. The rest they were to do with as they pleased, at least theoretically. At the moment the building was mostly empty as the tribute to the governor had already been taken, the quota fulfilled.

A small caravan of three cars was driving up the road the road and nearing the main entrance to the settlement. Private Boyed had played his role well, the coward valued his own life far to much to do otherwise. The knowledge that his head was constantly in the cross-hairs motivated the spine- and principle less shit pretty well. From the different tales told by the villagers, Savannah had learned quite a bit about the local branch of the National Guard, about their vices and weaknesses, their modus operandi in general and about their head quarters. While they pissed on most of the rules and put them on fire, one order they always followed to the rule. The HQ was always manned with at least three man and their was always an operator at the radio. Many of the villagers had seen the HQ both from out- and the inside, having been called or dragged their for questioning, for performing a service for the guard's men or just to be generally harassed. Some had spent time in an arrest cell or had delivered something. The guard's men certainly liked to have the settlers at their back and call. That would prove to be their downfall. Another fact was that fact was that they liked to plunder when an opportunity showed itself. The weakness of the Guard for plunder clashed in a curious way with a weakness of many settlers and an obsession of their superior. Governor Admiral Bell was of the firm conviction that alcohol was of the devil and destroyed both the moral fiber and the work morale of his beloved subjects. So he had made a proclamation that alcohol was strictly prohibited in all his domains. Now of course both many guard's men and quite a lot of the settler liked to use the spirit of the bottle to help them through their dreary existence. So the settlers secretly destilled their own whiskey and the guardsmen got their share. In exchange they usually were more lenient, at least for a time. But when rumors of drunken revelries reached the most excellent ears of his excellency, the governer, the guard's men came over the moonshiners like a thunderstorm. The secret destillery was burned down and all those implied to have been in the know had to publically recant. Sometimes after a flogging. Part of the ritual was that the National Guard confiscated the damnable corpus delicti, of course to later orderly "dispose" of it. The last such golden day was a while back by now and when Private Boyed called HQ to suitably exited inform them, that he had found a moonshine factory, the guard's men immediately knew what to do.

The doors of the warehouse had been opened wide, like they were beckoning the men to come closer. Boyed stood in the entrance, waving his arms. He was somewhat conflicted about the situation. He did not exactly care about his colleagues and more importantly the degree to which he had already helped the rebels, even if he had only done it to avoid being killed, would almost certainly lead to his execution anyway. Unfortunately his superiors wouldn't accept self preservation as a reason for aiding the enemy. As if the suckers wouldn't do anything to save their own sorry asses. Boyed considered himself a pragmatist. In the situation he had found himself it was perhaps better to try and enter Connor's ship. He had no doubt that the laughable, little uprising would be crushed but if Connor really intervened... The cars stopped and the guard's men started to file out of the vehicles. Boyed decided that he would cross one bridge after another, for the moment he would help the rebels, if they were slaughtered by the real army and Connor didn't come perhaps it could be arranged that all of them would die and he could return to his former superiors as a hero. Who was to say otherwise when all witnesses to his flexible interpretation of loyalty had gone to meet their maker. And if Connor came he could pull an repenting sinner act. As much as he showed himself to the world as a cold, calculating bastard, rumor had it that John Connor really was big, old softy at heart. If Boyed played his cards well, everything was possible. For first time since that crazy Weaver chick had almost bashed his head in he was quite confident that all would come to positive ending. Weaver, how he hated her. But he was not only pragmatist but also a realist. Avenging himself on her was pretty much out of the question. Captain Adrian Stokes, commanding officer of the Union National Guard under Governor Admiral Bell, stepped up to him, towering over his subordinate. "Sir!" "Private, we are our moonshiners?" the captain asked eagerly. The idiot, watching him die would almost be worth all the trouble. Boyed smiled enthusiastically. "I'll show you the way, Sir." Boyed led the men inside the warehouse, all the way to the back wall. Six of the guard's men remained outside, having an eye on the silent buildings around them, without realizing that the trap had already been sprung. "It's down here, Sir! Unbelieveable, the fucking idiots tried to hide it directly under our noses." He pushed aside few boxes and laid bare a trap door. In truth it lead to a small cellar, connected by a tunnel with the house of the mayor. The cellars served to to better protect perishable foodstuff from heat and flies, especially in the summer. Boyed grabbed the ring to pull open the hatch. He had to be quick the rebels certainly didn't care if he lived or died but at least he had a chance. In one fluid motion opened the trap door far enough to jump in and let the hatch fall shut again. With an angry cry the captain tried to catch to stop him but it was too late. The officer's eyes widened as he realized what had happened.

A quick count had revealed that all but three of the guard's men were present. Savannah's idea of giving the second patrol that was a few miles farther away, an earlier extra call to allow them the head start needed to arrive simultaneously with the men from HQ had worked marvelously. "Time for the fireworks. Would you do the honor." She gave Lyle the walkie talkie that they had repurposed to work as a remote detonator. The first bomb would set of the others in a chain reaction. Lyle took the device with emotionless face. Savannah felt a vicious smile tugging at the corners of her mouth but she supressed it. Somehow she didn't want him to see that she could possibly take enjoyment from killing. It was a dark side that she tried to hide even from herself and especially from him. She had only known him for a few hours but she didn't want to see her as a monster like her mother. She was certain that he didn't enjoy it and immediately regretted giving him the detonator but it was to late. Lyle pressed the send button. A fiery explosion ripped through the warehouse, shaking not only itself to the core but also the surrounding buildings. Secondary and tertiary explosions followed. The leader of the six men waiting outside whipped out a pistol and cried: "A tr..." Before he could finish his second word a bullet from Savannah's rifle smashed his skull. A molatov cocktail sailed through the air and sat one men's coat in flames. He screamed and desperately tried to put out the fire before being felled by a second gun shot. A third shot and one guard's man more went down. They had no chance being out in the open, easy targets, while the veterans and drafted villagers lying in ambush were well protected on roofs or at windows. The darkness, the complete surprise (after all they had not encountered real resistance before) and their own panic killed any chance at sucessfully defending themselves or breaking out of the trap.

"Hands up in the air where I can see them or you are all dead! Don't move and don't breath until I say so!" Savannah's voice seemed to come from every direction at once and the guard's men obeyed with out a second thought, dropping their weapons. All they wanted to do now was save their lives, they had been thoroughly beaten by the unknown enemy and they knew it. Suddenly a man came staggering out of the burning wreckage of the warehouse. He screamed like a damned soul, his left arm and most of his face had been ripped away and his clothes were burning. A shot cracked and he fell on his face, silent. The warehouse crumbled in on itself, burying the dead and the dying. A few minutes later the surviving guard's men had been taken into custody and tied up. The victors had assembled before the burning ruin, one veteran and five villagers two of which had been avid hunters before Judgment Day, just like PFC Roscoe, and still knew how to hit their target. Old Boris was one of the two marksmen. The mayor stared at the former warehouse, obviously shaken and murmuring again and again: "May God have mercy on our souls." The other village man was throwing up. Sergeant Lyle looked at the body of the man who's arm had been blown of by the bomb, his face ashen. Like Savannah he had taken part in many battles that had been incomparably larger and deadlier, where thousands of his comrades in arms had been killed. This was nothing. It could barely be called a skirmish. But it still was the naked, ugly face of war between humans. Neither Savannah nor Lyle had ever used the knowledge and techniques learned from the war against SkyNet to consciously kill human beings, at least not humans that weren't servants of SkyNet. The former tunnel rats had seen their fair share of horrors as well but they had only ever been on the receiving end. Savannah herself felt no regret for killing them but the feeling of elation and the thirst for revenge that had filled her before had disappeared and she was grateful for that. She cleared her voice: "Good work, gentlemen. All of you. And now to the final phase of our operation." She activated the walkie talkie. "Chicken Hawk, here is Rooster. Do you copy?" "Here is Chicken Hawk. Rooster, I'm happy to inform you that the eagle has landed and the fat lady sung!" PFC Roscoe answered. "Roger, Chicken Hawk. Well done."

A little bit earlier

Four minutes after the caravan of cars had passed it's position, the engine of the the tractor was started up. Perhaps the men in the cars had seen the agricultural machine standing apparently abandoned of th field while driving by, perhaps they hadn't. It wasn't unusual that one of the two tractors of the settlement was left outside for a night. After all, who would steal it, apart from drunken guard's men themselves? In any case the didn't register the tarpaulin covered trailer fastened to the vehicle. The tractor pulled on to the street, Private Collins was driving. "No tricks. You know it would be to late anyway. If you got out of this alive, and you won't if you cross us, the would shoot you anyway." Private Loomis, formerly of the Army of the Resitance, said with a broad grin while keeping his gun pointed at the National Guard member all the time. "You'll see, General Connor treats his prisoners better than Governor Admiral Bell treats his people. Not that scum like you deserves anything but a shallow grave." "I'm a dead man either way. That twisted Weaver chick is just waiting to rip out my entrails. You haven't seen her eyes. She is crazy and will you get you all killed, man." Collins grumbled. "Oh, I don't doubt that she wants to kill you, boy. But I think your chances with her are better than the alternative. Me." Loomis cackle like a mad man. Collins felt a cold shudder running down his back. The night had started so well, he and his buddies just having a bit of harmless fun and what had come from it? He had gotten his ass kicked, his head almost bashed in and who knew what else awaited him. And Curtis was dead too. He tried to wrap his head around what had gone wrong. Perhaps they really shouldn't have killed that old man but orders were orders and the others had teased him about not having the guts to do it. He had even felt rather sorry about it afterwards. That had to count for something, right? So he had done some bad things, okay, a lot of bad things. He knew very well that his mama wouldn't be proud of him. He had certainly allowed the meager bit of power he was handed after joining the Guard to get to his head. The killing of the old geezer had been a real all time low. But he had never gotten of on hurting somebody like Curtis and Boyed did, had only tried to proof that he was a real tough guy. Perhaps all this shit happening to him was kind of a sign. Perhaps he should try to change his life after all this was over? They spent the rest of the drive to the Guard HQ in silence.

Private Benny Linderman looked up when he heard the noise of the a very loud engine. That didn't sound like a car at all, more like a friggin tractor or something. He eagerly rose and stepped to the window of the radio room. It really was tough luck to be stuck here at HQ while the others got to have all the fun. Especially now that Boyed had reported that they had found a new nest of moonshiners. Benny had been the first one to get the message but would unfortunately probably be the last to get a nice, stiff drink. But he had been clever. He had made a deal with Boyed. He had promised to take over some of Boyed's duties if the dumbass brought an extra load of the stuff back to the HQ directly. Strange that Boyed brought up the idea himself, not very typical, but who cared. When he arrived he would generously share with the other stay at home guy and they would party while the others had to work all night. If he would fulfill his part of the bargain depended on how good the booze was but probably not. Yeah, it really was a tractor coming up the road. Boyed had probably confiscated it and the trailer to transport the good stuff. That was a good sign, it meant there was lots of it. He strained to make out the details but it was just to dark. No matter, he would be here soon enough. Linderman wasn't conscious of the fact that he was a perfect target while standing in front of the well lit window and he was not aware of PFC Roscoe, aiming at his head with a sniper rifle. The tractor stopped in front of the house, Private Collins jumped of the machine and called loudly: "Got a wagon full of whiskey, guys!" The door was opened and the other two stepped out onto the lawn. They never realised that a bullet smashed through the window of the radio room and entered Private Linderman's head. As Benny's body hit the floor he was already dead. Collins pulled back the tarpaulin from the trailer, revealing the muzzle of a machine gun pointed at at the two guard's men that had left the house fully expecting to receive a very different kind of present. "Hands up boys, pronto." called Corporal Sanchez, the wiry veteran of many battles against SkyNet under the command of General Matthew Perry. They did not hesitate to obey his order. "Welcome to the revolution, mujajos." Sanchez said good naturedly. Five minutes later Private Collins, under the ever watchful eyes of Private Roscoe, made a call to the people of Governor Admiral Bell to inform the staff of his excellency that the Union National Guard had struck another successful blow in the battle against drunkenness. He liked getting such messages a lot and nobody would ask questions about their little bonfire. After waiting for another few minutes the message arrived as planned. "Chicken Hawk, here is Rooster. Do you copy?" With a self satisfied smirk PFC Roscoe answered while placing his boots on the table: "Here is Chicken Hawk. Rooster, I'm happy to inform you that the eagle has landed and the fat lady sung!"

When Savannah Weaver arrived at the regional HQ of the Union National Guard, she was greeted by three Resistance Veterans standing at attention and three tied up prisoners. "We have managed to contact TechCom, Captain Weaver, Ma'am. I spoke to General Martin Bedell. Thing are really starting to move. Bedell said the Big Boss wants to talk you, personally." Roscoe informed her.

"Knight Six to Fisher King, do you copy?" Savannah said. After a few seconds of white noise the answer came through. Savannah felt more relieved than she had for a long time. "Fisher King to Knight Six, I can hear you as if we were in the same room. Good work, captain, unortodox and dangerous but good." "I have learned from the best, Sir." she said with a completely serious tone. John Connor chuckled softly before immediately becoming serious again. "Listen captain, in twenty four hours all will be over and we'll get this wagon back on track. Your people have to hold out until then. No more heroics, just survive. Am I right to assume that you have something for me?" "Yes, Sir. Among other things proof of high treason and severe breaches of the Union's constitution. I have three copies, one is already on route but in the face of the worsening situation, I'm not sure that it will get through." She could only hope that Bridget would reach her destination unmolested. "Normally you would be immediately extracted but the adversary has begun to react and is creating a no fly zone, he knows that a rat is in the cheesefactory but not where. It won't change our general time table but we have to be flexible with the details. I'm sending Buzz in. He will be there in a good hour." Savannah was suprised, not that there would not be an immediate extraction by helicopter, she had expected that, otherwise she would not have sent the girl. She was surprised that the day would be saved apparently by a piece of technology that she had believed to be in the early stages of developement. Despite the distance between them the general seemed to read her thoughts as easily as the morning paper. "Need to know, captain. You are no stranger to the rules of the game. Be at the roost in one hour. Again, good work. Fisher King over and out." Savannah set back and looked at Sergeant Lyle who clearly hadn't been able to follow the conversation. She felt the need to explain everything to him but decided that that would have to wait. Her fingers drumming on the wood of the table the radio was standing on she thought about what the next hours would bring. "The people are waiting outside. I think they wait for you to say something." Lyle informed her. "Say? What, do they expect me to make a speech or something?" Savannah asked lifting a brow in disbelief. Lyle shrugged and grinned. "Come on Captain Carrot, a little pep talk might do wonders." "Think about what you say, sergeant. Before you know it, your carrot could suffer." "I am no longer on active duty, Ma'am." he smirked. "You are now. You will take care of this people and keep them from doing something stupid. Welcome back with the army." She left him standing and exited the radio room. The mixed group of ex soldiers and ex tunnel rats now turned farmers, settlers and most recently rebels was waiting in the corridor.

"Listen to me." she said loud and clear. The excited murmur immediately died down. "I know how you feel now. After the adrenalin rush and perhaps the "My God, what have I done?" effect from the nasty truth of battle has worn of, you now feel strong. You look back and say "Hey, we took out this goons really good, lets go on doing it." You think you go to the next village and the next, overthrowing oppressors left and right and be heroes. You are wrong." The settlers stared at her dumbfounded the almost tangible cloud of energy and confidence that had filled the air started to dissipate. "You aren't soldiers and outsmarting a goon squad of untrained, badly organized, badly led dilettantes doesn't make you Robin Hood and his Merry Men. If you try to spread your little rebellion they will come at you with real troops, with aircraft, artillery and drones. They will come at you their reprogrammed terminators. You will be slaughtered. You are in a position comparable to the first resistance fighters in the early days of the war. But you have something that they did not have. Competent outside help. Help will arrive within the next twenty four hours. Until then you will not fight. You can't do that. But you can and will survive. That's enough." She turned away. Sergeant Lyle quickly stepped up to her and whispered into her ear: "Pretty good, Carrot, and probably the talk they needed if no the one the wanted. But you might want to end it on more positive note." Sighing Savannah had to admit he was right. She turned back to the crowd. The soldiers were taking it well but the settlers seemed rather crest fallen.

"You struck a blow for justice today. A blow with far reaching consequences. You are pebble that helped create an avalanche. That avalanche will bury the enemies of justice, be they man or machine. And you were there when it began. I am proud of you all and you can be proud of yourselves. Thank you." With these word she disappeared into the radio room again, Lyle following on her heels. "Better?", she asked after he had closed the door. "Perfect. Quite general-like."

"At least one reliable person has to stay here, in case somebody calls in, either good guy or bad guy. He or she can keep us in the loop with the short range radio. Our best chance is being stealthy until the general bails our asses out. If possible at all, we should continue the illusion that everything is as normal, the post still in the hands of the National Guard and all that. As far as we the governor and the higher ups know that I am in this sector and want to prevent me from getting out. They are also nervous about somebody from the outside extracting me or rather the data set I have. But because Bell, Sharp and the others trust neither each other nor the regular armed forces, crawling with TechCom sympathizers, they will their will try to keep the real reason for the alarm under the carpet as much as possible." Savannah mused. "Hmh, you mean the air units know that they are to shoot down anything that comes in or goes out but not why? Something like that? That would mean that the different forces could have problems coordinating." "Exactly. The Council fears that half of the forces loyal to them could switch sides and go over to Connor if all their dirty laundry gets dragged out into the open, a not unfounded fear. That fear will cause them to give their own people as little information as possible to minimize the risk. Add the endemic corruption to that and you get a badly stinking stew that ironically could save our collective behinds." she concluded. "Speaking of stew, Corporal Sanchez has found the very well stocked larder of our "friends". And they have a kitchen too though according to Sanchez the hygiene standard aren't very high." Savannah pretended to deeply think about what he had said."Hmh, that sounds pretty dangerous. I don't know if we can handle a dirty kitchen after eating rats and three days old coyote for years. I think I'll pass." Most people that knew Savannah Weaver agreed on one thing. When God or whoever was responsible had given people their sense of humor, she had been overlooked. In fact she most of the time hated people that had the habit of joking around. The only persons that manged to get a real laugh out of her were her good friends John Henry and Cameron. John Henry's sense of humor was of a rather harmless sort, while Cameron's could be really vicious indeed and she sometimes tried to squick out people on purpose, especially Major Derek Reese. But even with the two of them Savannah normally was only a passive consumer of all things humor. Even smiles graced her lips primarily when she was either kicking somebody's ass, expecting to kick somebody's ass real soon or otherwise thinking about doing the same, a fact that many found disconcerting. But according to Sergeant Lyle's full bellied laughter she was apparently doing well. "Serious, now. How about something to eat? I could even make a real stew, a not badly smelling one." Lyle suggested once he had calm down from his fit of laughter, his eyes still sparkling with merriment. As if it wanted to make a vote on the matter Savannah's stomach started to growl. The sergeant nodded sagely. "Somebody very wise seems to be in favor of my suggestion. I'm not as good a chef as Mrs. Cavanaugh but I'm not bad and I wouldn't want to live with you starving." Savannah rolled her eyes. "My savior!" But the truth was, it was meant only half ironical.

40 minutes later

The stew smelled delicious indeed, causing Savannah's mouth to water. Adrenaline could make one forget an empty stomach only for so long. "I have to say, if anybody asked me: What's the hardest thing to do, with only one hand?, I would answer: Cook a decent meal. Even cutting the vegetables is a real bitch and don't even get me started on... Ah, wonderful. I think the stew is ready. I know there isn't much time left but you should at least eat something. Serious, even if I have to risk sounding like an concerned, old lady you should get something into your stomach and then perhaps sleep for an hour." Savannah didn't answer so he proceeded to fill her bowl with the steaming stew. "This messenger from Connor, Buzz, is probably some kind of drone. Don't answer. Well, let's just hope it gets through. But even if it doesn't we have another dog in the race. Bridged is good, really clever she'll find a way and reach the school. It may be a purely civilian facility but the people of Governor Admiral Bell know that it's like an embassy from before Judgment Day. It's TechCom territory on Bell's land. They'll think thrice before storming in guns blazing." Of course he knew that the governor and his allies in the Union Council might not care about that if the really pulled all the stops. With a sigh a sat down next to her. Savannah looked up after silently staring at her stew for over a minute. "You are right about it being better to have more than one dog in the race. It's possible that I'll have to go, alone, to do what I had originally planned, before I had to start improvising. If that happens, I depend on you to get Trudey, Old Boris and the other through all this." There could be only one answer to this. "Of course, I'll bring them all home, captain. But..." Before he could get any farther she had pressed her lips on his in a hungry kiss.

At first he was stunned but then he met her hunger measure for measure. "Wow, that was... unexpected." he said after she had finally drawn back. "Why? You flirt, you tease, you cook dinner for me, you are obviously attracted to me, as I am to you and you clearly responded to my kiss. Why is this unexpected?" "Oh, you think I made the stew just because I wanted to get laid?" "What's wrong about wanting to get laid from time to time? So I like sex, sue me." Savannah said defensively. Inwardly she thought: Wow, really mature of you, stupid git. "Well, there is nothing wrong with it. Actually, it's even good for your health to have a active and fulfilled sex life, so more power to you. And you are right I am very much attracted to you. Sex with you sounds like a great idea in fact and if you want we can cut to the horizontal tango immediately. But only under one condition." "And what would that be?" she asked warily. "You tell me here and now if doing so has an averse effect on my chances of getting to know you better at a later date. Because I like you very much and despite knowing you only for a very short time, I find you fascinating. And while of course nobody can say how everything works out in the long run, I want to have at least a small chance of getting to know the real Savannah Weaver. What makes her happy, what causes her to carry around a lot of anger and why is she able to coldly plan a commando operation and still blush like a teenager whens she gets compliments. You look adorable when your face takes on the color of your hair, by the way." She looked away. "You have no idea what you would get into with all that. Of all the messed up people you could have met in this messed up world I have to be at least among the top ten." "Even if that is so, I would like to find out for myself." He seemed to be quite serious, Savannah was unsure what to say. A quick fun roll in the hay would have been a method to both finally wash of the invisible dirt that the touch of dead Sergeant Asshole Curtis had left on her (she certainly wouldn't allow a disgusting creep like him to ruin her fun with sex) and at the same time to neatly and comfortably sort Lyle into the category of fuck buddy. No stupid, distracting, mushy stuff there, thank you very much. But perhaps... Perhaps it might be worth trying out what would come of the whole thing. She decided to do a little experiment of her own.

"What if I told you that there is no chance in hell for anything more than an nice romp to feel alive, if that happened to be the only thing you could ever expect and that we will probably never see each other again, would you say yes than?" The young sergeant seemed to mull over her words carefully. "No, definitely not. I would be quite sad at the prospect of never having a chance to get to know you better and certainly wouldn't be in the mood for a bit of quick fun. Actually, it's a pretty depressing thought." Savannah Weaver didn't care much for sentimentalities but on the other hand she had never been the one to back down from a challenge. Perhaps, just perhaps it would really turn out to be worthwile. "I have to meet Connor's messenger, than we will have to see to it that we survive the next twenty four hours. After that we will kick Governor Admiral Bell's fat arse. After **that**... Well, I **might** allow you to cook for me again, one day." "Sounds like a deal." Sergeant Lyle chuckled.

**Author's Note:** A terminator story with not a single terminator in sight, I hope you can forgive me for that. Lots and lots of machines, good and bad, in the next. Different threads will soon come together and the spotlight will definitely turn to the true main characters. But I have to admit that I like to let characters from the periphery be the hero, at least for a short while.


End file.
